NRLF 


B    M    3Efi    ItD 


FRONTISPIECE. 


MERRY'S  GEMS 


OP 


EDITED   BY 

UNCLE   MERRY. 


N  E  W  -  Y  0  R  K  : 
H.  DAYTON,  No.   36  HOWARD   STEEET. 

INDIANAPOLIS,    IND.  :    ASHER   A   CO. 
1860. 


Itoiv.  Library,  UC  Santa  Cruz  1999 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1860,  by 

H.   DAYTON. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


VINCKNT  L.  DILL,  STEREOTYPES,  J.  J.  REED,  PRINTER, 

128  Fulton  Street.  43  &  45  Centre  Stree*. 


CONTENTS. 


Ml 

THE  Old  Homestead 13 

Anecdote  of  Daniel  Webster 21 

The  Simple  Truth 25 

life  and  Death : 29 

String  of  Pearls 30 

Truth 34 

The  Nautilus 35 

Fred's  Visit  to  the  Country 36 

Good  Night 41 

Gentle  Words— Loving  Smiles.... 42 

William  Tell 43 

Dry  Clouds 45 

The  Great  Chinese  Puzzle 46 

The  Perils  of  Fishing 54 

My  Home 61 

To  Day 61 

Leap  Frog 62 

The  Butterfly 64 

There  is  a  Silver  Lining  to  every  Cloud 65 

Harry  Know-Nothing 66 

The  Child  and  the  Angel 71 

Story  of  the  Two  Millers 72 

Timothy  Fennel's  Reflections 75 

The  Plough  Boy 79 

Spelling  the  Dictionary 81 

On  a  Good  Dog  Called  "  Watch." 85 

Old  Whittemore  Hill 86 

An  «  Ax  to  Grind." 90 

Scene  in  a  Country  School-House 91 

Sweet  will  be  our  Rest 92 

Look  at  Home 93 

The  Practical  Joker 94 

The  Sunbeam's  Mission * 97 

Kindnesg 08 

The  Seige  of  Belgrade .„.  100 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PACK. 

April 101 

Guess  What? 103 

Winter 106 

The  Hyacinth. 108 

Only  Waiting Ill 

Young  Men 113 

Echo  Answering 114 

Chickens .'<£? ....  115 

The  Way  to  do  It v  .  .  115 

Tobacco 116 

Reading 117 

Just  Too  Late 118 

Positive  and  Comparative 121 

Life :l 122 

Hops  and  Beans 123 

The  Fly 125 

Little  Dog  Toby,  and  the  White  Pitcher 126 

The  Two  Worlds 128 

Little  Graves 129 

A  Hint  for  the  Boys 130 

Never  Give  Up 132 

Read  this  Boys 1 133 

The  Other  Home 136 

Kite  Flying 137 

The  Bible 138 

Perseverance— its  Value . 139 

John  Randolph  Outdone 142 

Whistling 143 

The  First  Snow  of  the  Season 146 

The  Family  Unbroken 146 

The  Drunkard's  Will 147 

Helping  Mother 148 

Franklin's  Mode  of  Lending  Money 150 

Cold  Water  Song 150 

Drawing 153 

Little  by  Little 155 

What  Saith  the  Fountain? 156 

Advice  to  Youth 157 

The  Way  to  be  Happy 158 

The  Chi uese  Opium  Smoker 159 

Teaching  Under  Difficulties 165 

Work  but  don't  Worry 167 

The  Wreath.  . 168 


9  CONTENTS.  vii 

PAGB. 

The  Sou.hegan  River v...  171 

Try,  Try  Again 182 

Bye-and-Bye » 17S 

Sunshine 174 

Our  School-Time  Hours *. 175 

The  Household  "Good-Night." 176 

The  Life  I'd  Live 178 

The  Death  I'd  Die 179 

Charade 180 

What  is  a  Year? 181 

The  Dogs 183 

Cold  Water 186 

A  "  Strange  "  Preacher 187 

Farmer's  Boys 189 

Address  to  Lake  Ery 190 

The  Merry  Heart 191 

Little  Red  Riding-Hood 193 

The  Cabin  Boy 194 

The  Request 196 

When  one  Won't  Quarrel  Two  Can't 198 

Brilliants 199 

Little  Things 200 

The  Sublime  of  Nonsense 201 

Not  Time  Enough 203 

AH  About  Eyes ..., 204 

Angry  Words 205 

Our  Little  Angel 200 

Number  of  Stars 208 

Voices 209 

By-and-By 209 

An  Evening  with  Papa 210 

Song  of  the  Tree  Toad 214 

The  Comforts  of  Playing  "  Hookie." 217 

Pleasure  and  Duty 219 

Telling  Mother 220 

Tell-tale  Face 222 

To  the  Suspensbin  Bridge  at  Niagary 223 

The  Stone  in  the  Pond 224 

Hislory  of  a  Flower 226 

Life's  Smiles A 230 

Wants  his  Land  Warrant 235 

Rose  and  the  Flower 237 

Top  Philosophy 240 


ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGB 

THE  Old  Homestead 14 

Chinese  Ancestral  Tablet 16 

Daniel  Webster 21 

String  of  Pearls 30 

Fred's  Visit  to  the  Country 36 

The  Old  Mill 38 

Good  Night 41 

Tell  steering  the  Boat  on  the  Bocks 44 

The  Rescue „ 58 

Leap-Frog 62 

The  Butterfly 64 

Coming  out  of  the  Little  End  of  the  Horn 70 

The  Old  Mill 72 

The  Plough  Boy 79 

The  School  Boys 82 

Old  Whittemore  Hill 86 

The  Noisy  Children  just  let  loose  from  School 89 

Sweet  will  be  our  Rest 92 

April 101 

Winter 106 

Only  Waiting Ill 

The  Chickens '. 115 

Just  too  Late 118 

Little  Graves 129 

Kite  Flying 137 


X  ENGRAVINGS. 

FAG  I 

T  he  N e ws  B oy 139 

December 144 

jffelping  Mother 148 

Learning  to  Draw 152 

The  Fountain lf>6 

The  Chinese  Opium  Smoker 159 

Chinese  Mandarin 162 

Teaching  under  Difficulties , *.  16d 

The  Wreath 168 

Sunshine 174 

The  Household  "  Good  Night." 176 

The  Dogs  in  the  Parlor 182 

Cold  Water 186 

Little  Red  Riding-Hood. 192 

The  Request 196 

Brilliants , 199 

All  About  Eyes 204 

Our  Little  Angel 206 

An  Evening  with  Papa 210 

Song  of  the  Tree  Toad 214 

The  Blow 218 

The  Stone  in  the  Pond 224 

Flowers ,. 226 

The  Indian 234 

Top  Philosophy 240 


PREFACE. 


VE  here  present  to  our  young  friends  a  choice 
selection  of  prose  and  poetry,  which  we  hope 
they  will  enjoy  and  find  useful.  We  call  them 
"  gems,"  because  we  think  them  all  pure  in  sentiment 
and  well  adapted  to  the  comprehension  and  instruc- 
tion of  our  young  friends,  for  whom  they  are  intend- 
ed. When  we  were  young,  we  took  great  pleasure 
in  reading  such  pieces,  and  in  committing  them  to 
memory.  We  have  often  passed  a  whole  evening 
very  agreeably,  repeating  what  we  had  thus  learned, 
while  our  brothers  and  sisters  would  take  their 
turns  with  us,  vieing  with  us,  to  see  who  could  recite 
the  greatest  number  of  pieces.  We  often  do  it  now 
with  our  children,  and  find  great  pleasure  in  it. 
The  greater  part  of  our  stories  of  this  kind,  are 
those  which  we  laid  up  in  our  younger  days,  and 
we  send  out  this  little  volume,  partly  to  furnish  to 
our  young  friends  the  means  of  enjoying  the  same 
kind  of  pleasure.  Many  of  the  pieces  here  brought 
together,  are  worthy,  we  thirk,  to  be  committed  to 
memory,  and  recited  at  the  family  meetings,  and 


Ill  PREFACE. 

other  occasions,  where  more  active  and  boisterous 
amusements  would  be  out  of  place.  Besides  being 
agreeable,  it  is  a  very  profitable  exercise.  It 
strengthens  the  memory,  and  improves  the  taste. 
It  assists,  very  much,  in  the  cultivation  of  a  good 
style  of  writing  and  of  conversation,  by  furnishing 
a  variety  of  choice  expressions  for  the  thoughts  you 
wish  to  convey.  We  would  earnestly  recommend 
to  all  our  young  friends,  as  an  important  part  of 
their  education,  to  cultivate  a  love  of  poetry — to 
commit  to  memory,  and  often  repeat,  the  choicest 
and  best  pieces  ;  always  taking  pains  to  recite  them 
well,  with  proper  tone  and  emphasis,  so  as  to  give 
every  word  its  just  force  and  expression. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  good  selections 
of  prose.  There  are  many  passages  of  rare  force 
and  beauty,  which,  like  texts  of  Scripture,  will  never 
wear  out,  and  never  lose  their  value  as  gems  of 
thought  set  in  jewels  of  expression  ;  which  it  will  be 
found  very  useful  to  have  always  at  the  tongue's 
end.  If  any  such  are  found  in  this  little  book, 
which  shall  commend  themselves  to  our  young 
friends  as  worthy  to  be  remembered,  and  as  well  as 
read,  we  shall  be  satisfied  that  we  have  done  well 
in  bringing  them  together  in  this  form.  If  they 
only  amuse,  or  entertain,  they  will  not  be  wholly 
useless. 


trrgs 


of    r0se  anb 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


ALL  me  not  romantic,  though  I  speak 
of  the  many  pleasant  recollections 
which  cluster  around  the  Old  Home- 
stead, and  come  thronging  up  from  the  days 
of  childhood  often  as  we  re-visit  it  in  the 
after  years.  The  dear  Old  Homestead — where  we 
first  saw  the  light  and  first  learned  to  know  the 
looks  and  tones  of  love  —  where  kind  parents 
watched  over  us  with  yearning  affection,  and  where 
a  whole  troup  of  fond  brothers  and  sisters  used  to 
mingle  together  in  the  sweet  fellowship  of  domestic 
bliss  ;  where  we  remembered  and  kept  our  birth- 
days. How  the  heart  turns  back  to  this  hallowed 
spot,  from  all  its  various  wanderings!  How  it 
lingers  about  the  old  associations,  after  years  of 
absence,  as  if  the  cherished  objects  of  the  past 
would  come  back  to  its  embrace  and  live  again !  It 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


V —"----      '    •"-        -~-!** *~ 

Oh,  spare  the  Old  Homestead, 
'Tis  dear  to  me  yet ; 

The  home  of  my  childhood 
I  ne'er  can  forget. 


is  only  after  absence,  separation,  and  loss  that  we 
fully  know  how  precious  to  the  soul  were  its  first 
loves,  arid  how  important  the  influences  and  sur- 
roundings of  its  early  days. 

But  how  changed  is  everything  about  the  dear  old 
place  now  !  I  love  it  still,  but  am  pained,  as  well 
as  glad  to  re-visit  it.  The  garden  we  thought  so 
much  of  is  grown  over  with  weeds.  The  paths  *e 
so  often  trod  are  overgrown  with  grass.  The  house 
itself  is  changed.  The  dear  old  kitchen,  the  heart 
of  the  mansion,  has  been  made  smaller,  to  give 
room  for  a  cosy  little  sitting-room  at  one  end.  It 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  15 

may  be  cosy  and  convenient  to  the  new-comers,  but 
it  is  not  the  spacious  old  kitchen,  where  all  the 
work  of  the  house  could  be  done  and  all  the  family 
sit  round  the  ample  fire  of  hickory  logs,  and  where 
there  was  always  room  enough  for  "  blindinan's 
buff,"  "  hide  and  seek,"  "  puss  in  the  corner,"  and 
other  kindred  philosophies  of  those  blessed  days  at 
home,  to  say  nothing  of  huskings,  molasses  candy 
scrapes,  etc.,  etc. 

The  old  south  room  is  not  much  changed.  How 
many  scenes  come  back  upon  memory  as  I  open  the 
door — the  prayer-meetings,  the  social  gatherings  of 
family  friends,  the  thanksgiving  parties,  the  birth- 
day festivals,  and  the  eager  gathering  of  the  whole 
group  to  listen  to  the  last  letter  from  the  loved  and 
absent  in  China,  to  hear  of  the  strange  people  there, 
their  idolatries,  their  customs,  and  their  curious 
works.  Here,  in  the  engraving,  you  see  them  listen- 
ing to  an  explanation  of  a  Chinese  ancestral  tablet, 
which  had  just  arrived,  among  other  curiosities,  from 
that  distant  land. 

Yet  some  things  remain  as  of  old.  The  spacious 
barn  is  there,  and  the  Ions:  shed,  protecting  the 
north  side  of  the  yard.  The  old  hill  in  the  dis- 
tance, with  its  straggling  fringe  of  half-blasted 
trees,  and  its  solemn  look  toward  heaven.  But  more 
than  all,  the  bright  sparkling  brook,  that  babbled 
along  the  edge  of  the  garden,  and  sauntered  down 
into  the  valley,  as  if  it  were  in  no  hurry  to  get 
through  ;  though,  after  leaving  it,  it  would  rush  on 


16 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


to  the  river,  as  if  ambitious  to  find  its  way  to  the 
ocean.  And  yet,  after  all,  the  brook  was  changed 
too.  It  sang  the  same  old  tune,  but  it  seemed  to  be 
set  to  different  words.  The  air  was  familiar,  but 
my  heart  could  not  chime  in  as  of  old.  What  was 
the  matter  ? 

This  brook  had  something  more  than  sparkles  and 
babblings  to  commend  it.     It  was  perfectly  alive 


CHINESE  ANCESTRAL  TABLET. 


PKOSE     AND     PO'JBTEY. 


17 


with  trout,  and  I  used  to  know  just  where  to  find, 
and  just  how  to  take, 'them.  Often,  after  the  day's 
work  was  done,  or  when  it  rained  too  hard  to 
"  work  in  the  garden/'  I  would  take  my  pole  and 
try  my  hand  for  a  morning  meal.  I  became  familiar 
with  every  hole  and  nook  where  "  most  the  trout 
did  congregate,"  and  almost  with  every  shining  lit- 
tle fellow  among  them,  and  could  generally  tell 
when  one  was  large  enough  to  be  promoted  from 
the  brook  to  the  table.  Many  a  time  have  I  put 
back  into  the  stream  some  venturesome  little  fellow 
who  had  come  unbidden  to  my  hook,  thus  giving 
him  opportunily  to  grow  worthy  of  the  dignity  of 
being  eaten. 

Well  do  I  remember  how 
my  venerated  father  valued 
his  brook,  talking  of  it  as  his 
"  meat- tub  in  the  meadow," 
and  how  he  was  always  suc- 
cessful in  bringing  something 
out  of  it,  when  others  could 
catch  nothing. 

But  this  is  all  past.      To- 


18  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

day  I  took  a  line  and  went  down  to  see  if  they  would 
remember  the  old  friend  who  had  not  forgotten  them. 
It  rained,  but  I  took  my  old  stand  on  the  bridge 
and  threw  my  line.  A  moment  of  watching — then 
— "  flap !"  there  he  comes,  as  fine  and  plump  a  fel- 
low as  ever  gladdened  the  eye  of  old  Izaac.  They 
knew  me — they  did.  In  half  an  hour  I  was  on  my 
way  up  with  a  goodly  string  of  them,  all  eager  to 
be  broiled  for  my  breakfast. 

The  old  school-house  in  the  distance  caught  my 
eyes.  What  scenes  came  flitting  along  as  memory 
carried  me  back  to  the  good  old  days  when,  within 
those  narrow  walls,  the  "  young  idea  "  first  learned 
"  to  shoot,"  sometimes  overshooting  the  mark,  and 
sometimes  "  going  off  in  a  squib,"  or  "  flashing  in 
the  pan  1"  Those  "  spelling-schools  1"  Ah  !  what  a 
spell  of  ambitious  rivalry  was  on  us,  as  we  strove 
to  see  who  could  remain  longest  "  standing  up  1" 
Why,  I  could  spell  five  times  as  well  theu  as  I  can 
now. 

After  the  last  one  was  "  spelled  down  "  came  the 
declamations.  I  well  remember  rny  first  trial,  when 
called  out  to  "  say  my  piece"  How  I  trembled ! 
How  fully  I  realized  the  good  sense  of 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage  !" 

I  wonder  if  I  can  repeat  that  first  piece  now !  No 
sooner  said  than  done.  Down  went  fishing  rod  and 
fish,  and  up  I  mounted  on  an  old  familiar  stump, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  19 

made  "  my  bow  to  the  whole  world  and  the  rest  of 
mankind/'  and  addressed  myself  to  Niagara  thus  : 

I  wonder  how  long  you've  been  a  roaring' 

At  this  tremendous  rate  1 
I  wonder  if  all  you've  been  pourin' 

Could  be  ciphered  on  a  slate  ! 
I  wonder  how  such  a  thunderin'  sounded 

When  all  New  York  was  woods  ! 
'Spose  likely  some  Indians  have  been  drownded, 

When  rains  had  raised  your  floods  ! 
I  wonder  if  wild  stags  and  buffaloes 

Haven't  stood  where  now  I  stand  ! 
Well  'spose  (being  scared  at  first)  they'd  stubbed 
their  toes, 

I  wonder  where  they'd  land  ! 
I  wonder  if  that  rainbow  has  been  shinin' 

Since  sunrise  at  creation — 
And  this  waterfall  been  underrainin1 

With  constant  spatteration  I 
'hat  Moses  never  mentioned  ye,  I've  wondered, 

While  other  things  describin' ! 
My  conscience  !  how  ye  must  have  foamed  and  thundered, 

When  the  deluge  was  subsidin'  1 
"  My  thoughts  are  strange,"  magnificent,  and  deep, 

«  When  I  look  down  to  thee," 

0  !  what  a  glorious  place  for  washing  sheep 
Niagara  will  be ! 

4.nd  oh  !  what  a  tremendous  water-power 

Is  wasted  o'er  its  edge — 
One  man  might  furnish  all  the  world  with  flour 

With  a  single  privilege  ! 

1  wonder  how  many  times  the  lakes  have  all 
Been  emptied  over  here ! 


20 

Why  Clinton  didn't  fill  the  Great  Canal 

Up  here,  I  think  is  queer. 
The  thoughts  are  "  very  strange  "  which  crowd  my  brain, 

"  While  I  look  up  to  thee,"        ^ 

Such  thoughts  I  never  expect  to  haVe  again 

To  all  eternity ! 

As  my  old  pine-wood  audience  did  not  see  fit  to 
clap  or  stamp,  I  stamped  down  from  my  stump, 
clapped  up  my  fish,  and  started  homeward.  Every- 
thing seemed  more  familiar  than  ever. 

Even  the  squirrels  knew  me  as  I  walked  along, 
and  skipped  about  the  old  trees  as  if  they  knew 
that,  with  the  fishing-rod  in  one  hand  and  an  ample 
supply  of  trout  in  the  other,  I  should  not  be  likely 
to  ask  them  to  smell  my  powder. 

1  went  out  to  the  hay-field.  It  was  the  same  old 
work,  but  the  fun  was  all  worked  out  of  it.  The 
boys  were  not  there — nor — the  girls.  But  the  hay 
went  in,  and  so  did  I,  as  soon  as  I  decently  could. 
The  old  adage  says,  "  Make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines."  I  say,  make  hay  at  home,  and  this  is  not 
home  now. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


21 


ANECDOTE  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

I  WELL  remember  hearing  my  father  tell  the  fol- 
lowing anecdote,  illustrative  of  the  early  genius 
of  that  great  man  whose  loss   a  mighty  nation 
mourns  : 

Ebenezer  Webster,  the  father  of  Daniel,  was  a 
farmer.  The  vegetables  in  his  garden  had  suffered 
considerably  from  the  depredations  of  a  woodchuck; 
whose  hole  and  habitation  were  near  the  premises 


22  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

Daniel,  some  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  and  his  older 
brother  Ezekiel  had  set  a  trap,  and  finally  succeeded 
in  catching  the  trespasser.  Ezekiel  proposed  to  kill 
the  animal,  and  end  at  once  all  further  trouble  from 
him  ;  but  Daniel  looked  with  compassion  upon  his 
meek,  dumb  captive,  and  offered  to  let  him  again  go 
free.  The  boys  could  not  agree,  and  each  appealed 
to  their  father  to  decide  the  case.  "  Well,  my 
boys,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  will  be  the  judge. 
There  is  your  prisoner,  (pointing  to  the  woodchuck,) 
and  you  shall  be  the  counsel,  and  plead  the  case 
for  and  against  his  liberty." 

Ezekiel  opened  the  case  with  a  strong  argument, 
urging  the  mischievous  nature  of  the  criminal,  the 
great  harm  he  had  already  done,  said  that  much 
time  and  labor  had  been  spent  in  his  capture,  and 
now,  if  he  was  suffered  to  live  and  go  again  at 
large,  he  would  renew  his  depredations,  and  be 
cunning  enough  not  to  suffer  himself  to  be  caught 
again,  but  that  he  ought  now  to  be  put  to  death  ; 
that  his  skin  was  of  some  ralue,  but  that  to  make 
the  most  of  him  they  could,  it  would  not  repay  half 
the  damage  he  had  already  done.  His  argument 
was  ready,  practical,  and  to  the  point,  and  of  much 
greater  length  than  our  limits  will  allow  us  to 
occupy  in  relating  the  story. 

The  father  looked  with  pride  upon  his  son,  who 
became  a  distinguished  jurist  in  his  manhood. 
"  Now,  Daniel,  it  is  your  turn.  I'll  hear  what  you 
have  to  say." 


PROSE     AND    POETRY.  23 

This  was  his  first  case.  Daniel  saw  that  the  plea 
of  his  brother  had  sensibly  affected  his  father,  the 
judge  ;  and  as  his  large,  brilliant  black  eyes  looked 
upon  the  soft,  timid  expression  of  the  animal,  and  he 
saw  it  tremble  with  fear  in  its  narrow  prison- 
house,  his  heart  swelled  with  pity,  and  he  appealed 
with  eloquent  words  that  the  captive  might  again 
go  free.  God,  he  said,  had  made  the  woodchuck  ; 
he  had  made  him  to  live,  to  enjoy  the  bright  sun- 
light, the  pure  air,  the  free  fields  and  woods.  God 
had  not  made  him  or  any  thing  in  vain  ;  the  wood- 
chuck  had  as  much  right  to  life  as  any  other  living 
thing  ;  he  was  not  a  destructive  animal,  as  the  wolf 
and  the  fox  were  ;  he  simply  ate  a  few  common 
vegetables,  of  which  they  had  a  plenty  and  could 
well  spare  a  part ;  he  destroyed  nothing  except  the 
little  food  he  needed  to  sustain  his  humble  life  ;  and 
that  little  food  was  as  sweet  to  him,  and  as  neces- 
cary  to  his  existence,  as  was  to  them  the  food  upon 
his  mother's  table.  God  furnished  their  own  food  ; 
He  gave  them  all  they  possessed  ;  and  would  they 
not  spare  a  little  for  the  dumb  creature  who  really 
had  as  much  right  to  his  small  share  of  God's 
bounty,  as  they  themselves  had  to  their  portion? 
Yea,  more  ;  the  animal  had  never  violated  the  laws 
of  his  nature  or  the  laws  of  God,  as  man  often  did, 
but  strictly  followed  the  simple,  harmless  instincts 
he  had  received  from  the  hand  of  the  Creator  of  all 
things.  Created  by  God's  hand,  he  had  a  right,  a 
right  from  God,  to  life,  to  food,  to  liberty  ;  and 


24  MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 

they  had  no  right  to  deprive  him  of  either.  He 
alluded  to  the  mute  but  the  earnest  pleadings  of  the 
animal  (or  that  life,  as  sweet,  as  dear  to  him,  as 
their  own  was  to  them  ;  and  the  just  judgement  they 
might  expect  if,  in  selfish  cruelty  and  cold  heart- 
lessness,  they  took  the  life  they  could  not  restore 
again,  the  life  that  God  alone  had  given. 

'During  this  appeal  the  tears  had  started  to  the 
old  man's  eyes,  and  were  fast  running  down  his  sun- 
burnt cheeks  ;  every  feeling  of  a  father's  heart  was 
stirred  within  him  ;  he  saw  the  future  greatness  of 
his  son  before  his  eyes  ;  he  felt  that  God  had 
blessed  him  in  his  children  beyond  the  lot  of  com- 
mon men  ;  his  pity  and  sympathy  were  awakened  by 
the  eloquent  words  of  compassion,  and  the  strong 
appeal  for  mercy  ;  and,  forgetting  the  judge  in  the 
man  and  the  father,  he  sprang  from  his  chair, 
(while  Daniel  was  in  the  midst  of  his  argument, 
without  thinking  he  had  already  won  the  case,)  and 
turning  to  his  older  son,  dashing  the  tears  from  his 
eyes,  exclaimed,  "  ZEKE,  ZEKE,  YOU  LET  THAT  WOOD- 
CHUCK  GO  !" 


A  ROHAN  clergyman  lately  illustrated  the  necessity 
of  corporeal  punishment  for  the  correction  of  juve- 
nile depravity,  with  the  remark  that  "  the  child, 
when  once  started  in  a  course  of  evil  conduct  was 
like  a  locomotive  on  the  wrong  track,  it  takes  a 
switch  to  get  it  off." 


PEOSE     AND     POETRY.  25 


THE   SIMPLE   TRUTH. 

EMILY  and  Julia  Carlton,  one  day  when  their 
mother  was  gone  out,  enticed  Brutus,  the  great 
fat  house-dog,  into  the  parlor,  and  began  a  game  of 
romps  with  him.  Now  Brutus  was  old  and  lazy, 
and  did  not  like  to  be  pulled  about  by  the  little 
girls  ;  so  he  ran  under  the  table,  and  sideboard,  and 
sofa,  to  get  away  from  them,  while  they  pursued, 
clapping  their  hands  and  laughing.  But  they  did 
not  laugh  long  :  for  Brutus,  in  trying  to  escape, 
overturned  a  stand  upon  which  stood  a  glass  globe 
containing  gold  and  silver  fish.  The  globe  was  of 
course  broken,  and  the  poor  little  fish,  gasping  and 
struggling,  lay  scattered  upon  the  carpet. 

The  children  were  at  first  too  much  frightened  to 
speak  ;  but  Julia  soon  found  her  tongue,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  Poor  little  fish  !  poor  little  fish  !  0,  what 
will  mother  say  to  us  ?" 

"  Poor  little  fish  !"  echoed  Emily  "  they  will  all 
die.  0,  what  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  Mother  will  be  very  angry  with  us,  and  will 
punish  us,"  said  Julia. 

"  She  will  be  displeased  with  us  for  calling  Bru- 
tus into  the  parlor  ;  but  she  will  not  punish  us  if  we 
tell  her  the  truth." 

"  Yes,  she  will,  I  know,"  said  Julia,  "  She  won't 
let  us  go  to  consin  Harriet's  party  to-morrow." 


26         MERRY'S    BOOK    OF    GEMS   OF 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  be  so  sorry  for  that  as  I  am 
for  the  gold  fish.77 

"Mother  needn't  know  we  brought  Brutus  into 
the  parlor,  Emily.  We  can  run  into  the  garden  to 
play,  and  she  won't  find  it  out." 

"  0  Julia !  you  would  not  be  so  wicked." 

"  It  would  not  be  wicked,"  said  Julia.  "  I  do  not 
mean  to  tell  a  lie." 

"  But  you  mean  to  act  a  lie  ;  and  mother  has  tok 
us,  a  great  many  times,  that  is  just  as  bad  as  telling 
one.  It  would  be  a  great  deal  worse  than  calling 
Brutus  into  the  parlor,  because  then  we  did  not 
mean  to  do  wrong.  Mother  likes  to  have  us  tell  the 
simple  truth,  and  I  shall  tell  it  to  her,  and  then  she 
won't  punish  us." 

Mrs,  Carlton  came  in  while  Emily  was  speaking 
"  0,  my  poor  gold  fish  1"  she  exclaimed,  and  hast 
ened  forward  to  the  kitchen.  She  returned  in  an 
instant  with  a  bowl  of  water,  and  carefully  took  up 
the  fish  and  put  them  into  it. 

"  They  do  not  move,"  she  said,  after  she  had 
watched  them  awhile.  "They  are  quite  dead." 
She  then  turned  to  her  daughters,  and  desired  to 
know  how  the  accident  had  happened. 

"Brutus  threw  down  the  stand,  mother,"  said 
Julia. 

"  How  came  Brutus  in  the  parlor  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Carlton. 

"  He  came  in — at — the — open  door — I  suppose," 
stammered  Julia. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  27 

"  Brutus  knows  he  is  not  permitted  to  come  into 
the  parlor,  and  he  must  have  been  called,  or  he 
would  not  have  entered  it  now.  But  how  happened 
he  to  throw  down  the  stand  ?" 

"  He  ran  against  it,  mother." 

"  Brutus  is  usually  a  careful  dog.  I  think  he 
would  not  have  thrown  down  the  stand  unless  he 
had  been  driven  or  forced  against  it.  Come,  Emily, 
you  always  tell  a  straightforward  story.  Let  me 
hear  how  it  was." 

"We  called 'Brutus  into  the  parlor,  because  we 
wanted  him  to  play  with  us  ;  but  he  did  not  like  to 
play,  and  he  crept  under  the  sideboard,  and  table, 
and  sofa,  to  get  away  from  us.  We  drove  him  out, 
and  laughed,  and  clapped  our  hands  ;  and  I  suppose 
he  was  frightened,  for  he  ran,  and  we  ran  after  him, 
till  he  hit  the  stand  and  threw  it  down.'7 

"How  beautiful  is  truth!"  said  Mrs.  Carlton,  as 
she  stooped  to  kiss  Ernily. 

"  I  told  the  truth,  too,"  said  Julia,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Not  the  simple  truth,  and  the  whole  truth,  my 
dear.  You  merely  did  not  tell  a  falsehood  ;  but 
you  did  all  you  could  do,  without  telling  one,  to 
throw  the  blame  on  somebody,  or  something,  besides 
yourself.  Emily,  on  the  contrary,  kept  nothing 
back  ;  neither  did  she  try  to  excuse  herself  by  ac- 
cusing Brutus  and  the  open  door  ;  but  with  the  per- 
fect frankness  and  fairness  of  her  character,  told 
the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth.  Now  tell  me,  my 


28  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

dear,  what  have  you  ever  gained  by  your  habit  of 
keeping  back  part  of  the  truth,  when  you  fear  the 
whole  of  it  will  bring  you  into  trouble." 

Julia  was  obliged  to  answer,  "  Nothing." 

"  And  what  have  you  lost  ?" 

"  Nothing,  mother." 

"  Is  the  confidence  of  your  friends  '  nothing/  my 
dear  child  ?" 

Julia  had  often  felt  pain  from  not  being  believed 
and  trusted,  as  her  sister  Emily  was  ;  and  she  burst 
into  tears. 

"  You  know,  my  dear  Julia,"  said  Mrs.  Carlton,  "I 
love  you  too  tenderly  ever  to  give  you  pain  but  for 
your  good  ;  and  I  believe,  if  the  pain  you  suffer  now 
should  induce  you  to  correct  this  fault,  you  will 
hereafter  thank  me  for  inflicting  it.  Did  you  ever 
hear  what  was  a  wise  man's  reply,  when  asked  what 
a  man  gains  by  telling  a  falsehood  ?" 

"  No,  mother." 

"  It  was,  '  Not  to  be  believed  when  he  speaks  the 
truth.'  Remember  this ;  and  let  it  teach  you  to 
speak  the  simple  truth  in  future." 

BOYS,  did  you  ever  think  that  this  great  world 
with  all  its  wealth  and  woe,  with  all  its  mines 
and  mountains,  its  oceans,  seas  and  rivers,  steam- 
boats and  ships,  railroads  and  steam  printing  press- 
es, magnetic  telegraphs,  etc.,  will  soon  be  given 
over  to  the  hands  of  the  boys  of  the  present  age  1 
Believe  it,  and  look  abroad  upon  the  inheritance, 
and  get  ready  to  enter  upon  you  duties. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  29 


LIFE  AND   DEATH. 

«  WHAT  is  life,  father  ?"— A  battle,  my  child, 

Where  the  strongest  lance  may  fail — 
Where  the  wariest  eye  may  be  beguiled, 

And  the  stoutest  heart  may  quail — 
Where  the  foes  are  gathered  on  every  hand, 

And  rest  not  day  or  night, 
And  the  feeble  little  ones  must  stand 

In  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 

"  What  is  death,  father  ?"— The  rest,  my  child, 

When  the  strife  and  the  toil  are  o'er — 
The  angel  of  God,  who,  calm  and  mild, 

Says  we  need  fight  no  more — 
Who  driveth  away  the  demon  bands 

Bids  the  din  of  the  battle  cease, 
Takes  the  banner  and  spear  from  failing  hands, 

And  proclaims  an  eternal  peace. 

Let  me  die,  father.     I  tremble  and  fear 

To  fall  in  that  terrible  strife !" — 
The  crown  must  be  won  for  Heaven,  dear, 

In  the  battle  field  of  Life. 
Courage  !  thy  foes  may  be  strong  and  tried, 

But  he  loveth  the  weak  and  small ; 
The  angels  of  heaven  are  on  thy  side, 

And  God  is  over  all ! 


HOME. 

THOUGH  care  and  trouble  may  be  mine, 
As  down  life's  path  I  roam, 

I'll  heed  them  not  while  still  I  have 
A  world  of  love  at  home. 


M  E  R  It  Y  '  S     GEMS     OF 


STRING   OF   PEARLS. 

I  SAT  at  my  window  and  looked  down  upon  the 
river,  which,  swollen  by  recent  rains,  rushed  on 
toward  the  sea.     The  trees  and  green  banks  were 
no  longer  reflected  in  its  waters.     It  was  in  too 
much  haste  to  picture  them  as  it  passed. 

On,  on  it  rushed,  and  every  thing  which  rested 
on  its  waves  was  borne  with  it  away.  Rafts  went 
by  guided  by  men  who  knew  all  the  dangers  of  the 
rapid  stream,  and  scorned  them.  A  little  boat, 
loosened  from  its  moorings,  came  floating  along,  to 
be  dashed  in  pieces  with  the  logs  and  uprooted 
trees.  Fascinated  by  the  scene,  I  gazed  till  the 
noise  of  the  waters  became  a  dull  murmur,  and  the 
river,  and  banks,  and  quiet  village  beyond  faded 
away.  I  slept,  and  as  I  slept  the  scene  before  me 


PROSE     AND,    POETRY.  31 

mingled  with  my  thoughts.  I  stood  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  not  now  dashing  and  rushing  on,  but 
calm  and  quiet,  gentle  ripples  only  disturbing  its 
surface  ;  and  floating  slowly  down  the  stream,  came 
a  little  boat.  In  it  was  a  manly  youth,  who,  half 
reclining,  guided  with  ease  the  little  bark  ;  nearer 
and  nearer  he  came,  so  that  I  observed  that  ever 
and  anon  he  turned  his  head,  and  raised  his  hand, 
as  if  to  receive  something  from  some  one  above 
him.  I  looked  more  earnestly,  and  saw  dimly, 
faintly  revealed,  an  angel  figure  bending  over  him, 
and  offering  to  him  a  string  of  pearls.  The  youth 
received  them  with  a  careless  laugh,  and  after  hold- 
ing them  for  a  moment,  dropped  them  one  by  one 
in  the  bright  waters.  Still  the  angel  hand  contin- 
ued to  supply  him,  and  still  he  threw  the  precious 
gems  as  carelessly  away.  What,  thought  I,  is  this 
only  play — I  will  know  the  meaning  of  this.  Then 
I  saw  another  form  beside  the  youth,  and  as  he 
threw  the  pearls  away,  this  angel  caught  them  from 
the  gathering  waters,  and  strung  them  again.  The 
face  of  this  angel  was  sad,  and  he  looked  carefully 
at  each  precious  gem,  as  if  to  see  whether  it  had 
received  any  impress  from  the  youth.  Then  I  saw 
that  six  of  these  gems  were  pearls  beautifully  set 
with  twenty-four  smaller  gems,  but  the  seventh, 
which  was  also  surrounded  with  twenty-four  gems, 
was  a  diamond.  I  looked  then  to  see  how  the  youth 
would  receive  the  diamond  ;  surely,  thought  I,  he 
will  prize  it  more  than  the  rest.  But  no,  he  seemed 


32  MERRY'S-  GEMS   OF 

glad  indeed  to  receive  the  gem,  but  he  threw  it  away 
more  hastily  than  any  of  the  others.  Then  I  saw  that 
the  sad-faced  angel  talked  with  the  young  man,  and 
showed  him  the  long  string  of  gems  which  he  had 
gathered  from  the  waters,  and  the  youth's  face,  too, 
grew  sad  for  a  moment,  and  as  he  received  another 
pearl,  he  held  it  more  carefully,  and  even  attempted 
to  engrave  something  upon  it,  for  I  saw  that  these 
gems  were  already  prepared  to  receive  the  letters 
which  the  young  man  was  expected  to  mark  upon 
them.  Then  I  rejoiced  to  think  that  these  beautiful 
gems  were  no  longer  to  be  thrown  carelessly  away  ; 
but,  alas !  the  youth  tried  for  a  moment,  then  cast 
the  pearl  overboard  with  an  impatient — "  ;Tis  use- 
less, I  can't  trouble  myself  so." 

Now  the  boat  had  floated  very  near  me,  so  I 
called  to  the  youth,  and  asked  him  whither  he  was 
floating,  and  why  he  threw  away  so  carelessly  such 
beautiful  gems. 

"  Why,  you  see,  I  know  I  shall  have  plenty  more 
of  them  ;  as  long  as  I  float  on  this  river  I  can  have 
them,  and  I  throw  them  away  because  I  can  only 
keep  one  at  a  time,  and  there  is  nothing  different  in 
them.  I  can  make  them,  different  by  engraving 
certain  words  upon  them  ;  indeed,  I  am  told,  that  is 
what  they  are  given  to  me  for,  but  it's  too  much 
trouble  ;  and  if  I  begin  now,  I  shall  have  to  write  a 
great  many  before  I  get  through,  I'm  afraid." 

"  But,  when  will  you  get  through  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly,"  replied  the  youth  ; 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  3& 

"  that  depends  upon  the  length  of  this  river,  and 
the  swiftness  of  the  current ;  it  may  be  a  great 
while,  and  it  may  not." 

"  And  where  do  you  go  then  ?"  was  my  question. 

The  young  man  shuddered.  "  There  is  a  dreary, 
boundless  ocean  then,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  don't 
want  to  think  of  that." 

"  But/'  I  persisted,  "  why  does  the  pale  figure  by 
your  side  keep  gathering  up  those  stones,  and  plac- 
ing them  on  the  string  T' 

"  That  is  to  see  how  many  I  have  written  on. 
They  tell  me  that  when  I  get  to  the  mouth  of  this 
river,  I  may  reach  a  beautiful  country,  and  live 
there  ;  but  it  all  depends  on  what  I  write  on  those 
stones,  so  there  isn't  much  prospect  of  my  getting 
there  ;"  and  he  laughed — a  hollow,  affected  laugh. 
;  "  Why  don't  you  write  on  them,"  asked  I,  "  since 
you  gain  so  much  by  it  ?'' 

"  Oh,  'tis  too  much  trouble.  Here  it  goes  " — and 
with  these  words  he  tossed  over  the  pearl  he  had 
been  holding  while  talking  to  me,  and  raised  up  his 
hand  for  another. 

I  looked  wonderingly  after  him,  as  he  floated  on 
out  of  my  sight.  Then  I  thought,  "  I  will  ascend 
this  high  hill,  and  watch  that  little  boat ;"  so  I 
climbed  the  hill,  and  behold,  from  the  top,  I  could 
see  the  whole  course  of  the  river,  and  far  on  I  saw 
the  little  boat.  -  The  waters  here  were  no  longer 
calm,  there  were  rapids  and  rocks  to  avoid,  and  the 
young  man  no  longer  looked  carelessly,  but  anxious- 


34  M  E  R  R  Y  '  S      G  B  M  S     0  F 

ly  watched,  peering  forward  into  the  darkness,  to 
see  what  was  coming.  It  needed  much  care  to 
keep  his  boat  afloat,  and  sometimes  I  fancied  it  was 
lost,  and  then  I  would  see  it  rise  on  the  waves,  and 
struggle  on  again.  Still  I  could  see  that  his  hand 
was  raised  for  the  pearls,  and  I  fancied  that  he  held 
them  longer,  and  looked  at  them  more  earnestly 
than  he  did  before.  So  he  went  forward — wrathful 
waves  around — and  the  deep  surging  of  the  unknown 
sea  distinctly  heard,  as  he  came  nearer  and  nearer 
to  it.  A  startling  scream,  and  the  boat  gave  a  sud- 
den plunge,  and  when  I  looked,  there  dimly,  in  the 
lowering  darkness  of  the  great  ocean,  I  saw  the  poor 
man's  figure,  struggling  with  the  waves.  His  boat 
was  a  wreck.  There  was  one  flash  of  light,  and  by 
it  methought  I  saw  two  angel  figures  weeping  bit- 
terly, flying  upward,  bearing  with  them  the  string 
of  pearls. 

TRUTH. 

ALWAYS  speak  the  truth.  Nothing  will  so  exalt 
the  individual  as  virtue,  and  virtue  cannot  be 
perfected  without  an  understanding  regard  to  truth. 
The  person  whose  word  is  not  sacred  to  himself, 
and  sure  to  others,  lives  in  a  very  degraded  sphere 
of  life.  The  trustworthy  dog  stands  more  than  on  a 
level  with  him  in  the  sphere  of  being,  and  is  deserv- 
ing of  more  honor.  But  the  individual  of  truthful 
lips,  lives  in  an  exalted  sphere  of  life,  having  the 
confidence  of  all  around  him. 


PROSE      AND     POETRY.  35 

THE    NAUTILUS. 

THE  Nautilus  floats  on  the  azure  deep, 
She  opens  her  sail,  when  the  wild  winds  sleep, 
When  the  sun  shines  bright,  and  dolphins  play 
Then  moves  she  along  like  a  lady  gay, 

For  a  lady  is  she 

Of  the  deep  deep  sea, 
And  nought  is  so  pretty  or  half  so  free 
As  the  ocean's  fair  gem  of  purity. 

In  the  pride  of  her  beauty  she  moves  along, 
And  welcomed  she  is  by  the  mariner's  song, 
For  when  on  the  ocean  they  see  the  sail 
They  cheerfully  sing  and  wish  her  well ; 

For  a  lady  is  she 

Of  the  deep  deep  sea, 
And  nought  is  so  pretty  or  half  so  free 
As  the  ocean's  fair  gem  of  purity. 

When  hollow  winds  whistle  and  billows  roar, 
She  takes  in  her  sail,  and  you  see  her  no  more, 
Yet  when  the  waves  sleep  and  tempest  is  gone 
Yet  lady-like  still  she  moveth  along  ; 

For  a  lady  is  she 

Of  the  deep  deep  sea, 
And  nought  is  so  pretty  or  half  so  free 
As  the  ocean's  fair  gem  of  purity. 

Like  the  Nautilus — may  each  of  us  sail, 
May  our  vessel  of  life  be  free  from  a  gale, 
When  the  tempests  of  life,  and  its  billows  are  gone 
May  we  float  like  the  Nautilus  merrily  on  ; 

For  a  lady  is  she 

Of  the  deep  deep  sea, 
And  nought  is  so  pretty  or  half  so  free 
As  the  ocean's  fair  gem  of  purity. 


36 


MERRY'S   (JEMS    OF 


FRED'S  VISIT   TO   THE  COUNTRY. 

FRED  DANFORTII  had  always  had  a  pleasant 
home,  a  kind  father,  an  affectionate  mother,  and 
a  darling  sister,  named  Helen,  who  was  only  two 
years  his  senior,  and  as  fond  of  sport  and  play  as 
his  little  heart  could  wish.  Fred  and  his  pretty 
sister  loved  each  other  dearly— they  rarely  quar- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  37 

reled,  for  their  mother  was  always  near  to  warn 
them  against  all  angry  words, — and  it  was  a  pretty 
sight  to  see  the  little  Helen,  throw  down  her  skip- 
ping rope  or  ball,  when  Fred  grew  tired  of  listen- 
ing to  his  mother's  stories,  and  try  to  amuse  him  by 
bringing  him  bright  flowers,  or  reading  to  him  from 
some  of  the  books  she  kept  in  the  little  bookcase 
her  father  had  given  her  for  a  birthday  present. 

Fred  often  thought  and  said,  that  he  never  could 
be  happy  away  from  his  kind  parents,  and  little  sis- 
ter ;  but  when  he  was  about  ten  years  old,  his 
Aunt  Clara,  went  away  some  fifty  miles  into  the 
country  to  visit  her  sister,  and  took  Fred  for  com- 
pany on  the  journey.  It  made  him  feel  so  much  like 
a  man  to  go  on  this  first  trip,  that  he  quite  forgot 
that  he  was  to  leave  all  his  dear  friends  behind,  till 
the  time  came  to  bid  them  good  bye.  Then,  I  am 
afraid,  the  tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  there  was  a  big 
lump  in  his  throat  that  made  him  feel  as  if  he  was 
choking — but  in  a  little  while  he  got  over  this,  and 
enjoyed  the  swift  ride  in  the  cars  very  much  indeed. 

Fred's  uncle  lived  upon  a  farm,  just  out  of  the 
village  of  Monticello.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  the 
travelers  reached  the  place,  but  Fred  had  time,  after 
supper,  to  run  about  a  little,  and  see  what  the  place 
was  like.  He  found  a  famous  great  tree  on  the 
green  before  the  door,  and  thought  he  would  ask  his 
uncle,  the  next  day,  if  he  might  have  a  swing  put  up 
there.  Then  there  was  a  meeting-house  a  little  way 
off,  and  a  few  cottages,  and  close  beside  the  road, 


38 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


and  only  a  little  distance  from  the  great  tree,  was  a 
small  brook,  with  an  arched  stone  bridge  over  it, 
that  pleased  him  very  much.  As  he  walked  down 
that  way,  a  man  came  up,  leading  two  of  the  farm 
horses — one  white,  and  the  other  black.  He  let 
go  of  the  bridles,  and  waited  for  them  to  drink. 
Fred  began  to  talk  with  him,  and  soon  found  out 
that  his  name  was  Mike,  and  that  the  black  horse, 
was  named  "  Dolly,"  while  the  white  one  answered 
to  the  name  of  "  Snowball."  Mike  put  him  on  old 
Dolly's  back,  and  he  rode  up  to  the  house  in  high 
glee,  just  as  his  aunt  was  corning  to  the  door  to  call 
him  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  Fred  was  up  early,  eager  to 
take  a  long  walk,  with  his  kind  aunt,  who  knew  all 


THE    OLD    MILL. 


PROSE    AND    POETRY.  39 

the  beautiful  places  on  the  farm.  She  led  him  down 
a  long  and  narrow  lane,  till  they  came  suddenly 
upon  an  old  windmill,  that  was  a  new  and  strange 
sight  to  the  boy.  They  stood  upon  a  little  bank 
just  beyond  the  mill,  looking  down  at  the  brook 
beyond,  and  at  a  little  boat  that  was  gliding  along 
there,  like  a  living  thing.  Fred  clapped  his  hands 
and  exclaimed  : 

<;  Oh,  Auntie,  we  must  have  a  sail  before  I  go 
back!" 

"  Yes/7  said  his  kind  aunt,  '*  we  will  have  one  the 
day  after  to-morrow,  if  the  day  is  fair.  Mike  shall 
take  us  out  to  Still  Pond,  where  the  white  lilies 
grow,  and  if  you  pick  some  for  Helen,  they  can  be 
kept  pretty  fresh  till  we  see  her.  Now  look  at  the 
mill,  Fred." 

Fred  looked.  The  miller  had  opened  the  door, 
and  was  standing  on  the  steps,  and  up  over  the  roof, 
the  sails  were  going  slowly  round,  like  long  arms 
stretched  out  in  the  air.  Fred  wanted  a  ride  on 
one  of  them,  but  his  aunt  laughed  so  heartily  at  the 
idea,  that  he  gave  it  up  a  moment  after,  and  was 
quite  willing  to  exchange  it,  for  one  with  Mike,  who 
now  came  jolting  by,  with  a  high  wagon  and  old 
Snowball,  and  stopped  to  take  them  in. 

Fred  thought  that  was  one  of  the  happiest  weeks 
he  had  ever  spent.  He  had  a  nice  swing  and  a  ride 
now  and  then  on  old  Dolly — and  then  for  play- 
mates, he  had  a  funny  little  black  and  white  puppy 
named  "  Jip,  arid  all  the  hens,  and  chickens,  and 


40  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

geese,  and  turkeys  on  the  farm.  And  then,  the  day 
before  he  went  away,  he  had  such  a  famous  sail  with 
his  aunt,  and  Mike,  in  his  uncle's  boat.  They  went 
••i  long  way  out  on  the  pond,  and  filled  the  bottom 
of  the  boat  with  the  whitest  and  sweetest  lilies  he 
had  ever  seen.  His  aunt  wrapped  them  up  carefully 
in  wet  paper  the  next  morning,  and  after  Fred  had 
said  guod-bye  to  every  body  and  every  thing  on  the 
farm,  they  were  whirled  away  again  in  the  rattling 
-tars,  towards  home. 

They  got  there  just  in  time  for  tea,  and  Fred 
cried  for  joy  when  he  felt  his  mother's  arms  around 
him,  and  Helen's  kiss  upon  his  cheek.  The  little 
girl  was  delighted  with  the  fragrant  lilies,  and 
Fred  had  so  much  to  tell  her  of  the  wonderful 
things  he  had  seen,  that  his  tongue  ran  faster  than 
a  race  horse.  Mrs.  Danforth  has  promised  both 
her  children  a  visit  to  the  old  farm-house  during  the 
next  summer,  if  they  are  good  and  kind  to  each 
other,  and  Master  Fred  is  making  great  calculations 
about  the  "  fun  "  he  will  have  then,  with  Helen  to 
keep  him  company. 


AN  Irish  piper,  who  now  and  then  indulged  in  a 
glass  too  much,  was  accosted  by  a  gentleman  with, 
"  Pat,  what  makes  your  face  so  red  ?"  Please  your 
honor,"  said  Pat,  "  1  always  blush  when  I  spake  to 
a  gintleman. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY 


41 


GOOD   NIGHT. 

"  GOOD  night,  dear  mamma  !"  a  little  girl  said, 
"  I'm  going  to  sleep  in  my  trundle  bed  ; 
Good  night  dear  papa,  little  brother  and  siss  I" 
And  to  each  one  the  innocent  gave  a  sweet  kiss 
"  Good  night  little  darling,"  her  fond  mother  said — 
"  But  remember,  before  you  lie  down  in  your  bed, 
With  a  heart  full  of  love,  and  a  tone  soft  and  mild, 
To  breathe  a  short  prayer  to  Heaven,  dear  child." 
"  Oh,  yes,  dear  mother !"  said  the  child,  with  a  nod, 
"  I  love,  oh  !  I  love  to  say  good  night  to  God  !" 

Kneeling  down,  "  My  Father  in  Heaven,"  she  said 
"  I  thank  thee  for  giving  me  this  nice  little  bed  ; 
For  though  mamma  told  me  she  brought  it  for  ine, 
She  says  that  everything  good  comes  from  Thee; 
I  thank  Thee  for  keeping  me  safe  through  the  day.; 
I  thank  Thee  for  teaching  me,  too,  how  to  pray ;" 


Then  bending  her  sweet  little  head  with  a  nod, 
"  Good  night  my  dear  Father,  my  Maker  and  God 
Should  I  never  again  on  earth  open  mine  eyes, 
I  pray  Thee  to  give  me  a  home  in  the  skies !" 

'Twas  an  exquisite  sight  as  she  meekly  knelt  there, 
With  her  eyes  raised  to  Heaven,  her  hands  clasped  in 

prayer  ; 

And  I  thought  of  the  time  when  the  Saviour,  in  love, 
Said,  "  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaveu  above  ;" 
And  I  inwardly  prayed  that  my  own  heart  the  while, 
Might  be  cleansed  of  its  bitterness,  freed  from  its  guile  ; 
Then  she  crept  into  bed,  that  beautiful  child, 
And  was  soon  lost  in  slumber  so  calm  and  so  mild, 
That  we  listened  in  vain  for  the  sound  of  her  breath 
As  she  lay  in  the  arms  of  the  emblem  of  death. 

GENTLE  WORDS— LOVING   SMILES. 

THE  sun  may  warm  the  grass  of  life, 

The  dew  the  drooping  flower, 
And  eyes  grow  bright  that  watch  the  light 

Of  Autumn's  opening  hour — 
But  words  that  breathe  of  tenderness, 

And  smiles  we  know  are  true 
Are  warmer  than  the  summer  time, 

And  brighter  than  the  dew. 

It  is  not  much  the  world  can  give, 

With  all  its  subtle  art, 
And  gold  and  gems  are  not  the  things 

To  satisfy  the  heart  ; 
But  oh,  if  those  who  cluster  round 

The  altar  and  the  hearth, 
Have  gentle  words  and  loving  smiles, 

How  beautiful  is  earth  ! 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  43 


WILLIAM   TELL. 

IN  1307,  Switzerland  was  under  the  dominion 'of 
an  Austrian  tyrant,  named  Herman  Gessler. 
The  Swiss  have  always  been  a  hard  people  for 
tyrants  to  manage,  and  this  governor  had  his  match 
with  them.  It  seems  he  suspected  they  were  not 
perfectly  loyal.  So  one  day,  he  ordered  a  hat  to 
be  raised  on  a  pole,  and  commanded  everybody  to 
do  homage  to  it,  as  if  his  own  head  were  under  it. 
Tell  refused.  He  was  arrested  for  disobedience, 
and  the  tyrant  cruelly  directed  him  to  shoot  an 
arrow  at  an  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his  own 
son,  or  else  to  be  dragged  with  his  child  to  immedi- 
ate death.  What  a  dreadful  choice !  Tell*  was  a 
good  archer,  and  he  determined  to  try  his  skill, 
though  at  the  eminent  hazard  of  murdering  his 
child.  He  raised  the  bow,  took  deliberate  aim, — 
with  a  steady  hand  ;  and  wonderful  to  relate,  cleft 
the  apple  in  two  without  injuring  his  son!  God 
aided  that  injured  man — God  indeed  is  ever  on  the 
side  of  the  oppressed  and  against  the  oppressor. 
Tell  had  another  arrow  in  his  quiver  ;  and  he  de- 
clared that  if  he  had  hurt  his  child,  that  arrow 
would  have  been  thrust  through  the  heart  of  the 
tyrant. 

This  boldness  was  the  occasion  of  his  confine- 
ment ;  and  the  governor,  afraid  of  a  rescue,  carried 
him  across  the  lake  of  Lucerne.  But  a  violent 


MERRY'S    BOOK    OF    GEMS   OF 


TELL    STEERING    THE    BOAT    ON    THE    ROCKS. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  45 

storm  obliged  Gesslei>who  knew  that  the  prisoner 
was  a  good  sailor,  to  entrust  to  him  the  helm  of  the 
vessel  for  the  preservation  of  his  own  life.  Tell, 
freed  from  his  chains,  steered  the  boat  on  a  rock. 
That  rock  is  still  called  by  his  name.  He  leaped 
ashore,  unhurt,  and  escaped  into  mountains.  That 
governor  was  afterwards  shot  by  the  hand  of 
Tell ;  and  the  Swiss  roused  to  arms  by  the  conduct 
of  their  hero,  drove  away  their  Austrian  master, 
and  established  the  independence  of  Switzerland. 
Nearly  fifty  years  after  this  event,  Willian  Tell  was 
drowned. 


DRY  CLOUDS. — Two  boys  among  the  blackberry 
bushes,  some  mile  or  two  out  of  town>  saw  a  cloud 
rising  and  heard  a  sound  like  thunder.  One  who 
was  a  little  timid  said  to  the  other,  "  Come,  Fred. 
let's  go  home — it  thunders."  The  other,  not  wish- 
ing to  return  home  so  soon,  denied  that  it  thundered 
at  all.  Directly  the  rumbling  noise  was  again 
borne  on  the  freshening  breeze.  "  What's  that, 
then  ?"  inquired  the  other.  "  Why,  Fred,  don't 
you  know  what  that  is  ?  If  you  don't,  I'll  tell  you. 
You  know  it  has  been  dry  weather  for  a  long  time. 
What  clouds  there  are  floating  about  are  as  dry  as 
old  sheep-skins,  and  when  the  wind  blows  it  rattles 
them." 


46  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


THE   GREAT    CHINESE   PUZZLE. 

MANY  years  ago,  during  the  lime  of  the  third 
dynasty  of  the  Emperors  of  China,  which  com- 
menced about  the  year  1,110,  B.  c.,  there  reigned 
over  that  country  an  Emperor  named  Ching.  He 
had  an  only  daughter  who  was  'his  greatest  pride 
and  joy.  She  had  a  fair  skin,  with  a  delicate  tinge 
of  pink  on  her  fat  checks  ;  her  little  eyes  were  bright 
and  sparkling,  and  her  thick  hair  was  black  as  the 
raven's  wing  ;  but  her  greatest  beauty  was  her  feet, 
which  were  but  three  inches  long. 

This  interesting  maiden,  Yang-te-Se,  was  loved  by 
a  young  Chinese  named  Hang-Ho,  a  youth  beneath 
her  in  birth  and  fortune.  Now,  as  her  father  was 
Emperor,  or,  as  his  subjects  styled  him,  the  "  Son  of 
Heaven/'  he  looked  higher  for  a  husband  for  his 
daughte/ .  Even  the  noblest  in  his  realm  were  not 
deemed  worthy  of  her,  and  it  was  his  hope  that 
some  rich  neighboring  monarch  would  purchase  her 
for  a  large  sum,  so  that  he  might  then  build  himself, 
for  his  summer  residence,  a  beautiful  kiosk  on  the 
banks  of  the  Yang-Kiang. 

My  young  readers  are  all  aware  that  the  Chinese 
are  remarkably  fond  of  puzzles,  and  that  they  are 
famous  for  having  furnished  some  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult that  have  ever  been  invented  ;  but  I  doubt  if 
any  of  you  know  the  origin  of  the  Great  Chinese 
Puzzle. 


PROSE     AX  J>     POETRY.  47 

It  is  a  pleasant  summer's  afternoon,  and  the  great 
Cliing  has  ordered  some  of  the  Mandarins  (officers 
of  state)  to  meet  at  his  imperial  palace,  to  consider 
a  subject  of  great  moment.  There  are  assembled 
about  a  dozen  men,  all  seated  quietly  upon  the  floor, 
smoking  their  pipes,  while  the  Emperor  is  reclining 
upon  a  cushion. 

"  You  all  know,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  been,  for 
some  time,  wanting  to  marry  my  daughter  ?" 

On  hearing  this,  all  the  yellow  Mandarins  started, 
while  their  sharp  black  eyes  twinkled,  each  think- 
ing— "perhaps  I  can  pay  enough  to  buy  me  this 
pretty  little  wife." 

"But  one,5'  he  continued,  "  has  dared  to  love  her, 
who  has  not  near  money  enough  to  pay  her  price  ; 
and  for  this  boldness  he  must  die I" 

Then  all  the  Mandarins  dropped  their  pipes,  and 
turned  very  pale,  for  each  one  knew  that  he  had 
loved  the  Emperor's  daughter.  Hereupon,  they  all, 
with  one  bound,  threw  themselves  at  Ching's  feet, 
and  begged  for  their  lives.  A  most  ludicrous 
scene  now  presented  itself.  Imagine  the  Emperor, 
lying  on  the  cushion,  laughing  immoderately,  while 
his  great  officers  are  sprawling  on  the  floor,  scream- 
ing for  mercy. 

When  they  all  became  somewhat  composed,  the 
Emperor  arose  and  said,  "  So,  you  love  Yang-te-Se ! 
Well,  you  ought  all  to  die  ;  but  I  will  be  merciful. 
You  are  none  of  you  the  one  I  mean,  for  you  have 
never  yet  importuned  me  for  her  hand.  There  is 


48  MERRY'S    GEM  SOP 

one,  however,  who  has  not  been  as  wise  as  you  ;  and, 
for  his  folly,  he  shall  die.  Go  immediately  and  order 
him  to  be  brought  here.  It  is  the  young  Hang-Ho." 

As  the  Emperor  uttered  these  words  he  waved  his 
hand  towards  the  door,  and  one  of  the  Mandarins 
left  the  room  to  execute  the  order.  In  about  an 
hour  he  returned,  bringing  quite  a  good  looking 
young  man,  who,  immediately  upon  entering,  pros- 
trated himself  humbly  before  Ching. 

"  That  is,  indeed,  the  right  position  for  you,  my 
young  fellow,"  said  the  Emperor  ;  "  but  do  you  know 
why  you  have  been  sent  for  ?" 

"  Yes  ;"  he  replied,  tf  to  die  for  my  love  for  Yang- 
te-Se  1  sweet  Yang-te-Se  !"  and  as  he  murmured  the 
maiden's  name,  he  raised  his  eyes  reproachfully 
towards  her  father. 

"  Impudence  1"  muttered  the  Emperor,  flattered, 
however,  that  his  young  daughter  was  so  well  loved. 

I  must,  before  proceeding  further,  inform  you 
that  the  Emperor  Ching  was  a  very  ingenious  man, 
fond  of  all  sorts  of  tricks  and  amusing  games  ;  and 
it  was  his  greatest  delight  when  any  of  his  subjects 
invented  any  kind  of  puzzle,  to  be  the  first  to  dis- 
cover the  answer. 

This  same  fondness  for  puzzles  seems,  ever  since 
the  days  of  Ching,  to  have  characterised  the  Chi- 
nese nation,  so  that  while  in  this  country  you  are 
asked  if  you  have  read  the  last  new  book,  in  China 
you  are  asked  if  you  have  seen  the  last  new  puzzle 
— and  if  you  have  solved  it. 


PEOSE     A  X  D     POETRY.  49 

"  Will  not  your  Majesty  listen  to  my  request  ?" 
said  the  young  Hang-Ho. 

"Yes  ;  if  you  will  be  quick  and  make  it,  for  you 
cannot  live  much  longer." 

"  But  it  is  a  request  for  my  life." 

"Well,  what  price  will  you  pay  for  it  ?"  asked 
the  Emperor,  with  a  sarcastic  laugh. 

"  I  have,"  continued  the  young  man,  without 
noticing  this  interruption,  "  a  plan  now  in  my  head 
of  a  new  style  of  puzzle  ;  and  if  you,  oh  mighty 
Ching,  will  promise  me,  that  if  you  do  not  discover 
the  puzzle  within  thirty  days  from  the  time  that  I 
present  it  to  you,  you  will  grant  me  my  life — well 
and  good  ;  but  if  you  will  not  promise  this,  then 
your  Majesty's  eyes  shall  never  behold  the  Puzzle. 

This  was  a  pretty  bold  tone  for  the  young  man  to 
assume,  and  the  Mandarins  looked  on  in  astonish- 
ment at  seeing  how  calmly  the  Emperor  bore  it. 
But  Hang-Ho  knew  the  ground  on  which  he  stood, 
and  that  he  was  offering  a  great  temptation. 

Now,  as  I  have  said,  the  Emperor  was  very  inge- 
nious, and  very  apt  at  discovering  all  sorts  of  puz- 
zles, so,  he  thought  to  himself — "  the  young  man 
will  die  in  the  end,  for  there  can  be  no  puzzle  in- 
vented that  I  cannot  find  out  in  thirty  days  ;  and 
even  if  I  should  not  happen  to  discover  it  within 
that  time,  it  will  be  better  to  give  him  his  life  than 
to  have  this  Great  Puzzle  lost  to  our  nation."  So 
he  promised  Hang-Ho  that  he  would  grant  his  re- 
quest, and  a  writing  was  immediately  drawn  up  by 


50  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

one  of  the  Mandarins,  to  this  effect,  and  signed  by 
the  Emperor  Ghing. 

a  And  now,  young  man,"  lie  said,  "  to-morrow  I 
shall  expect  to  see  this  wonderful  puzzle,  on  which 
hangs  your  life." 

"  Yes,  most  gracious  monarch/'  replied  the  lat- 
ter, as  he  bowed  thrice  and  then  left  the  apartment. 

On  the  following  morning,  very  early,  Hang-Ho 
presented  himself  at  the  imperial  palace.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  small  wooden  box.  He  was  imme- 
diately admitted  into  the  presence  of  the  monarch, 
who,  advancing  a  few  steps,  said,  "  Well,  my  young 
man,  have  you  got  the  puzzle  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Hang-Ho  showing  him  the 
wooden  box,  which  the  Emperor  took,  and  tried  to 
open  it.  The  box  was  very  small — only  about  four 
inches  square,  and  was  composed  of  a  number  of 
pieces  of  sandal-wood,  of  different  shades,  shapes, 
and  sizes,  all  neatly  fitted  together.  After  exam- 
ining it  very  attentively,  the  Emperor  looked  up,  his 
sharp  black  eyes  twinkling  with  pleasure,  and  said': 

"  Well,  well,  Hang-Ho,  this  is  indeed  very  protti- 
ly  made,  but  you  cannot  puzzle  me/'  and  he  pressed 
his  finger  against  one  of  the  squares,  which  immedi- 
ately yielded  to  the  touch,  and  one  of  the  sides  of  the 
box  flew  out.  The  young  man  merely  smiled,  while 
the  former  continued,  "but  what  are  these  ?"  and  he 
took  out  seven  geometrical  figures,  beautifully 
carved  in  ivory.  Five  of  them  were  right-angled 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  51 

triangles  of  various  sizes,  one  was  a  perfect  square, 
and  the  other  a  rhomboid. 

"  These  seven  figures,'7  replied  the  young  man, 
when  rightly  placed  together,  will  form  an  exact 
square.''7 

The  Emperor  was  deeply  interested.  He  had 
seen  many  sorts  of  puzzles,  but  never  anything  of 
this  description. 

"  I  hope  no  one  has  seen  this?"  he  inquired. 

u  No,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  not  a  person  in 
the  kingdom  except  us  two." 

"  That  is  well,"  added  the  Emperor.  "  Let  it  re- 
main a  secret  for  the  present.  Not  even  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  court  must  know  this.  Remember !'' 
and  he  shook  his  finger  warningly  at  Hang-Ho. 

"  You  shall  be  obeyed/'  replied  the  youth,  laying 
his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  bowing  thrice,  he  left 
the  Emperor  Ching,  as  we  will  also,  deeply  in  the 
study  of  the  puzzle. 

It  is  noised  abroad  through  the  kingdom  that  the 
Emperor  is  engaged  in  studying  out  a  new  puzzle, 
invented  by  the  youg  Hang-Ho,  and  that,  if  the  for- 
mer discovers  it  within  thirty  days,  it  will  cost  the 
latter  his  life,  and  all  because  he  has  dared  to  love 
the  pretty  Yang-te-Se  ;  and  the  men  shake  their 
heads,  muttering,  "  The  great  Ching  sets  too  high 
a  price  on  his  daughter.  Poor  Hang-Ho  is  lost." 

But  no,  he  is  not  lost!  The  thirty  days  have 
passed,  and  the  Emporor  has  not  solved  the  puzzle. 


o2  MEREY'SGEMSOP 

Again  he  assembles  his  Mandarins,  and  proclaims 
his  failure,  and,  in  their  presence,  he  clasps  the  hand 
of  the  young  Hang-Ho,  saying,  "  You  are  a  clever 
fellow,  and  I  would  like  to  reward  you.  Now, 
what  do  you  wish  for  most  ?'' 

"  A  wife,"  he  replied  earnestly,  murmuring  the 
name  of  "  Yang-te-Se." 

"How  bold,"  whisper  the  Mandarins  to  each 
other  ;  "  but  he  is  a  great  man  now,  for  he  has  in- 
vented a  puzzle  which  even  our  sovereign  cannot 
discover." 

"  Young  man,"  replied  the  Emperor,  "  I  will  give 
you  a  chance,  even  for  the  hand  of  my  daughter.  I 
will  present  th  e  puzzle  to  all  the  first  young  ladies 
of  my  kingdom,  and  if  any  one  of  them  discovers 
the  answer  within  thirty  days,  whoever  she  may  be, 
you  shall  marry  her.  It  is  your  only  chance,"  he 
continued,  seeing  that  Hang-Ho  hesitated  to  reply. 
•  Yang-te-Se  shall  try  with  the  rest.  Will  you  agree 
to  this  ?" 

"  I  will,"  replied  the  young  man,  a  flush  of  hope 
rising  to  his  cheeks. 

Now,  let  us  visit  the  apartments  of  the  ladies  of 
the  court.  They  are  all  reclining  on  soft  cushions. 
Their  curiously  carved  fans  no  longer  move,  and 
their  eyes  are  earnestly  fixed  upon  seven  small  pieces 
of  ivory  lying  before  them.  Any  of  the  beautiful 
females  in  the  kingdom  would  willingly  be  the  wife 
of  Hang-Ho.  He  is  so  agreeable,  and  besides,  it 
Would  be  such  a  novel  way  of  winning  a  husband, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  53 

by  finding  out  a  puzzle  which  even  the  Emperor 
could  not  discover. 

The  pretty  Yang-te-Se  is  now  deeply  occupied 
with  the  "  Puzzle."  She  is  seated  at  a  small  table, 
in  her  own  room,  her  cheeks  are  flushed  with  ex- 
citement, and  her  heart  is  beating  violently,  for  the 
poor  maiden  has  suffered  much  since  her  lover  was 
condemned  to  die  ;  and  now,  if  she  does  not  discov- 
er the  answer  to  the  puzzle,  he  is,  indeed,  lost  to 
her  for  ever.  She  presses  her  hands  to  her  face, 
and  the  pearly  tears  filling  her  eyes,  find  their  way 
through  those  delicate  fingers. 

Suddenly  she  hears  a  slight  rustling  in  the  tree 
that  grows  beneath  her  window,  and,  in  an  instant, 
there  is  nestling  in  her  bosom  a  beautiful  white 
Digeon. 

"  Oh,  sweet  bird,"  she  exclaims,  as  she  kisses  it 
and  smooths  its  feathers,  "  what  bringest  thou  to  me 
from  Hang-Ho  ?'?  Whilst  uttering  these  words,  she 
unties  a  white  ribbon  from  its  neck,  attached  to 
which  is  a  small  scroll.  She  unrolls  it — glances 
earnestly  at  it — and,  oh  !  it  is  the  key  to  the  puzzle 
— Hang-Ho  is  her's  ! 

There  is  great  excitement  through  the  court  of 
the  Emperor  Ching,  for  his  own  daughter  has  dis- 
covered the  puzzle.  And  all  the  people  bow  their 
heads  reverently,  saying,  "  Changti  certainly  watch- 
es over  the  sweet  maiden  !  Hang-Ho  has  a  nice 
little  wife." 

Such  is  the  origin  of  the  "  Great  Chinese  Puzzle." 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 


THE   PERILS   OF  FISHING. 

NDER  the  shadow  of 
old  Monad  nock  I  did  all 
the  fishing  of  my  juvenile 
days.  A  brighter  or  a 
livelier  stream  never 
flashed  down  the  side  of 
a  rugged  mountain,  than 
that  which  washed  the 
eastern  margin  of  our  old 
homestead  farm.  Never 
did  prettier,  gayer,  more 

bewitching  little  shiners  dance  and  shimmer  in  the 
limpid  waters,  than  those  which  found  a  home  in  that 
same  laughing  mountain  brook.  It  sometimes  hurt 
my  feelings  sadly  to  see  them  writhing  and  wrig- 
gling on  the  hook,  or  flapping  about  on  the  grass, 
in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  I  thought  I  would  rather 
lose  my  breakfast  than  torture  them  so  again.  But 
then  again,  the  roguish  little  elves  would  vex  me, 
and  try  my  patience  marvelously,  till  my  sympathy 
with  suffering  quite  evaporated.  When  I  was  in 
the  greatest  hurry,  they  would  always  tease  me 
most.  They  would  actually  seem  to  laugh  at  my 
impatience.  I  could  see  every  rascal  of  them  in  the 
clear,  crystal  element.  They  would  come  dancing 
gayly  up  to  the  hook,  smell  daintily  at  the  bait, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  56 


turn  np  an  eve  at  me  with  a  most  provoking  smile, 
as  if  to  say,  "  We  know  too  much  for  that,  boy/' 
and  then  skip  away  with  a  titter  that  I  could  almost 
hear.  Then  up,  and  away  again.  Then  nibble, 
nibble,  nibble — jerk!  and  out  would  come  bait, 
hook,  arid  sinker,  but  no  fish,  disturbing  the  water 
and  frightening  away  the  whole  troup,  so  that  it 
was  five  minutes,  or  more,  before  the  boldest  of 
them  would  venture  to  come  back.  Then,  try  it 
again,  impatiently.  Vexation  would  make  me 
hungry,  and  the  hungry  stomach  would  get  the  bet- 
ter of  the  tender  heart,  and  make  me  resolve  to  pay 
the  little  imps  tenfold  for  their  impudence  and 
coquetry.  Then,  nibble  again,  nibble — jerk,  so  im- 
patiently and  nervously,  that  the  excited  sinker 
would  perhaps  give  me  a  hard  slap  on  the  nose,  and 
the  agitated  hook  jump  into  my  cheek  or  hand,  and 
make  me  scream  out  with  pain  and  rage. 

Many,  I  assure  you,  are  the  perils  of  fishing,  even 
in  a  quiet  brook.  I  once  had  my  cheek  so  torn  by 
the  hook,  which  caught  the  infection  of  rny  passion- 


56 


MERRYS     GEMS     OF 


ate  jerk,  that  it  was  nearly  a  month  before  I  could 
remove  the  patch,  and  the  scar  remained  a  full 
month  or  more  after  that. 

Do  you  see  that  cosy  old  fellow,  sitting  on  tho 
arch  of  the  bridge,  yonder,  the  image  of  patience 
and  laziness.  Under  the  shade  of  the  overhanging 
trees,  and  in  social  chat  with  his  friend,  he  seems 
to  have  a  very  good  time  of  it,  just  now.  But,  by- 
and-by,  when  his  friend  passes  on,  and  he  is  left 
alone,  perhaps  nn  hour  or  two,  with  no  occupation 


or  amusement,  but  just 
to  hold  that  line,  and 
look  at  the  water,  it 
will  not  J>e  quite  so  in- 
teresting, and  it  may  be 
somewhat  dangerous,  un- 
less he  happens  to  be  a 
good  swimmer. 

I  know  just  what  it  is,  for  I  have  experienced  it. 
I  was  sitting,  one  bright  morning,  on  a  projecting 
log,  that  overhung  a  deep  eddy  at  an  angle  of  the 


PROSE     AXD     POETRY.  57 

brook,  stupidly  waiting  for  the  nibbles.  The  fishes 
were  either  very  sleepy,  or  not  very  hungry,  and 
would  not  come  to  my  bait.  The  brook  was  a  little 
swollen  with  recent  rains,  and  the  whirling  eddies 
were  more  active  and  brilliant  than  usual.  I 
partially  forgot  my  breakfast,  and  went  off  into  a 
revery,  into  which  those  whirling  eddies  wove  and 
intertwined  themselves  till  my  head  was  all  in  a 
whirl  too,  and  pop  !  I  went  into  the  water.  I 
awoke  from  my  revery  in  an  instant.  I  knew  at 
once  where  I  was,  though  sorely  puzzled  to  know 
why  and  how  I  got  there.  Without  stopping  to 
solve  that  riddle,  I  dashed  and  spluttered  about, 
shouting  lustily  for  help,  and  reducing  to  instant 
practice  all  my  knowledge  of  the  art  of  swimming. 
I  soon  reached  the  bank,  but  it  was  loose  and  slip- 
pery, and  I  could  get  no  hold  by  which  to  draw 
myself  up.  I  shouted  again,  Help !  Help !  and 
soon  heard  the  welcome  answer — Where  ?  what  ? 
hallo  !  The  next  minute,  my  cousin  John  came 
rushing  to  the  spot.  He  had  been  fishing  in  the 
same  stream  a  little  above.  A  large  rock  project- 
ing from  the  bank  had  prevented  us  from  seeing 
each  other.  Seeing  my  trouble,  he  tore  a  rail  from 
the  fence  near  by,  passed  one  end  of  it  to  me,  and 
by  that  means  drew  me  around  to  the  spot  where 
he  had  been  sitting,  and  where  the  bank  was  easier 
to  climb.  By  the  help  of  the  rail  and  John's  en- 
couraging words,  I  was  soon  on  shore  and  on  my 
way  home.  I  had  lost  my  line,  my  basket,  and  my 


58 


M  E  R  T!  Y     S     GEMS     OF 


3ap,  and  was  thoroughly  drenched  and  cold.  But, 
would  you  believe  it,  grateful  as  I  thought  I  was  to 
have  escaped  with  my  life,  I  was  more  annoyed  by 
the  croak  ings  of  a  poor  innocent  bull-frog  than  by 
all  the  other  inconveniences  and  discomforts  I  ex- 
perienced. Squatting  on  the  edge  of  the  little  pool, 
just  within  the  fence,  the  frog  puffed  out  his  cheeks, 
and  eyed  me  with  a  look  of  contempt,  at  the  same 
lime  saying — pod-dook  !  pod-dook  !  which  I  inter- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  59 

preted — poor  duck  !  pcor  duck  !  I  took  up  a  stone 
to  demolish  him,  whereupon  he  plunged  into  the 
pool  and  was  lost  to  sight  for  a  moment,  then,  pop- 
ping up  on  the  other  side,  he  shouted  pod-dook  !  pod- 
dook !  as  lustily  as  ever.  I  looked  for  another 
stone,  but  John  laughed  at  my  folly  and  told  me  I 
had  better  leave  the  poor  frog  to  sing  out  his  song, 
and  hurry  home  for  a  change  of  clothes  and  a  warm 
dinner. 

But  I  never  hoar  that  "  plump,  dump,"  hoarse 
song  of  the  bull-frog  without  something  of  that  old 
feeling  of  rage.  If  I  only  could  understand  what 
the  dumpy  old  rascals  would  say,  I  should  not  care. 
I  have  tried  in  vain  to  get  this  song  interpreted. 
There  are  as  many  versions  as  writers.  My  father 
used  to  tell  a  story  of  "  Old  Grimes/'  as  he  was 
called,  who,  going  home  one  dark  night,  drunk  as  a 
beast,  and  passing  a  pool,  heard  a  hoarse  voice  say, 
"  Old  Grimes !  old  Grimes  1"  Then  another  an- 
swered, "He's  a  rogue  !  he's  a  rogue!"  Soon  a 
chorus  broke  out,  "  Let's  kill  him  !"  let's  kill  him  !" 
and  then,  with  a  deep  sort  of  groan,  "  Get  a  club  ! 
get  a  club !"  and  Grimes  hurried  home  almost 
sobered  with  fright. 

There  was  a  famous  society,  in  one  of  the  Xew 
England  States,  called  "  The  Palih  Duqhh  Society," 
a  name  derived  from  the  solemn  utterance  of  the 
frogs,  who  inhabited  a  pond  near  the  place  where 
tho  meetings  of  the  society  were  held.  The  names 
of  the  officers  were  all  in  the  same  queer  froggish 


60 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


r 

i  >*A 


style  of  spelling,  and  the  advertisements  of  the 
meeting  and  doings,  which  appeared  from  time  to 
time  in  the  papers,  excited  a  great  deal  of  wonder 
among  the  young  folks,  But  even  the  learned 
society  did  not  seem  to  get  any  more  insight  into 
the  meaning  of  the  song  than  they  did  into  the  spel- 
ling of  the  sound. 


PROSE      A  X  D      POETRY.  61 

MY    HOMP1 

THE  home  I  sigh  for  is  no  kindred  dwelling 

Where  eager  eyes  look  wistfully  for  me, 
Where  hand  meets  hand,  and  hearts  with  rapture  swelling 

Bid  the  long  parted  the  most  loved  one  be. 

Home  !  smiling  home  !  the  lines  are  o'er  it  drooping  ; 

Yet  from  its  chambers  children  stand  aloof  ; 
So  low  it  lies,  that  thy  kind  hand  in  stooping 

Alone  may  touch  its  green  and  humble  roof. 

Home  !  peaceful  home  !  the  grass  doth  grow  around  it ; 

For  garden  flowers  the  daisies  blossom  fair  ; 
Narrow  its  walls — an  arm's  breadth  well  may  bound  i' 

But  sound  of  scorn  or  wrong  can  reach  not  there. 

0  welcome  home !  the  exile,  gazing  blindly 
Through  tears  of  tenderness  the  loved  to  see, 

Haileth  his  native  shore  with  thoughts  less  kindly 
Than  my  poor  heart  looks  hopefully  to  thee  1 

There  in  the  dust  shall  perish  Life's  last  anguish, 
While  the  freed  Soul  the  purer  realms  shall  soar 

Exile  no  longer  from  its  home  to  languish, 

4nd  Home  ! — my  Home  ! — is  mine  for  evermore  1 


TO-DAY. 
DON'T  tell  me  of  to-morrow  ; 

Give  me  the  man  who'll  say 
That  when  a  good  deed's  to  be  done, 

Let's  do  the  deed  to  day ! 
We  may  command  the  present, 

If  we  act  and  never  wait  ; 
But  repentance  is  the  phantom 

Of  the  past,  that  comes  too  late  ! 


62  M  E  R  R  Y  '  S     GEMS     CF 


LEAP   FROG. 

THIS  is  a  most  exct-llent  pastime.  It  should  be 
played  in  a  spacious  place,  out  of  doors  if  possi- 
ble, and  the  more  they  are  engaged  in  it,  provided 
they  be  of  the  same  height  and  agility,  the  better  is 
the  sport.  We  will  suppose  a  dozen  at  play  : — Let 
eleven  of  them  stand  in  a  row,  about  six  yards 
apart,  with  all  their  faces  in  one  direction,  arms 
folded,  or  their  hands  resting  on  their  thighs,  their 
elbows  in,  and  their  heads  bent  forward,  so  that  the 
chin  of  each  rests  on  his  breast,  the  right  foot  ad- 
vanced, the  back  a  little  bent,  the  shoulders  round 
ed,  and  -the  body  firm.  The  last  begins  the  sport 
by  taking  a  short  run,  placing  his  hands  on  tho 


PROSE      AND      POETRY.  63 

shoulders  of  the  nearest  player,  and  leaping  with 
their  assistance — of  course,  springing  with  his  feet 
at  the  same  time — over  his  head,  as  represented  in 
the  cut.  Having  cleared  the  first,  he  goes  on  to  the 
second,  third,  fourth,  fifth,  etc.  in  succession,  and  as 
speedily  as  possible.  When  he  Las  gone  over  the 
last,  he  goes  to  the  proper  distance,  an  1  places  him- 
self in  a  position  for  all  the  players  to  leap  over 
him  in  their  turn.  The  first  over  whom  he  passed, 
follows  him  over  the  second,  third,  fourth,  etc.;  and 
when  he  has  gone  over,  the  one  who  begun  the 
game  places  himself  in  like  manner  for  the  others  to 
jump  over  him.  The  third  follows  the  second,  and 
so  on  until  the  parties  are  tired. 

The  manner  of  playing  Leap-Frog  about  London 
is  different,  and,  as  we  think,  much  inferior  in 
safety,  appearance,  and  amusement  : — A  lad  places 
himself  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  his  body  nearly 
doubled,  and  his  side,  instead  of  his  back,  turned 
toward  the  leapers,  who,  with  a  short  run,  take 
their  leap  at  some  distance  from  the  lad  who  is  to  be 
vaulted  over  ;  he  who  takes  his  leap  the  farthest  off, 
is  reckoned  the  best  player.  This,  it  may  be  read- 
ily imagined,  is  by  no  moans  so  lively  as  the  real 
game  of  Leap-Frog,  which  we  have  above  described. 
The  boy,  who  is  to  be  leaped  over,  receives  the 
greater  shock  from  the  jumpers  ;  and  he  is  in  more 
danger  of  being  thrown  down  by,  or  having  a  blow 
on  his  head  from,  their  knees. 


MERRYS     (JEMS     OF 


THE  BUTTERFLY. 

"  DON'T  kill  me,"— caterpillar  said, 

As  Clara  raised  her  heel, 
Upon  the  humble  worm  to  tread, 

As  though  it  could  not  feel. 

"  Don't  kill  me, — I  will  crawl  away, 

"  And  hide  away  from  sight, 
"  And  when  I  come,  some  other  day, 
"  You'll  view  me  with  delight," 

The  caterpillar  went  and  hid 

In  some  dark,  quiet  place, 
Where  none  could  look  on  what  he  did, 

To  change  his  form  and  face. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  65 

Ind  then,  one  day,  as  Clara  read 

Within  a  shady  nook, 
A  butterfly,  superbly  dressed, 

Alighted  on  her  book. 

His  shining  wings  were  dotted  o'er 

With  gold  and  blue  and  green, 
A.nd  Clara  owned  she  naught  before 

So  beautiful  had  seen. 


"THERE  IS   A   SILVER  LINING  TO  EVERY 
CLOUD." 

THOUGH  dark  seems  the  future,  and  the  present  is  drearj 

Keep  still  a  brave  heart  and  a  resolute  will ; 
In  the  good  cause  of  progress,  oh  !  never  be  weary, 

But  fight  'gainst  oppression  and  tyranny  still. 
Remember,  though  dark  is  the  cloud  that's  above  you 

And  no  dazzling  sun  in  the  horizon  is  shining, 
4.nd  no  one  in  the  wide  world  to  care  for  and  love  you, 

That  to  every  dark  cloud  there's  a  bright  silver  lining. 

Still  keep  on  your  way,  and  your  duty  pursuing, 

Till  your  life  and  your  labor  and  duties  are  o'er  ; 
Then  receive  your  reward  for  your  faithful  well-doing, 

And  fear  not  oppression  or  poverty  more. 
Jut  remember  through  life,  though  the  voyage  be  hard, 

For  'twill  save  thee  regret  and  much  sorrowful  pining, 
Though  your  stay  upon  earth  has  been  checkered  and  barred, 

That  to  every  dark  cloud  there's  a  bright  silver  lining. 


66 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


HARRY   KXOW-XOTHIXG  ; 

OR,    WHICH    END     WILL    YOU     HAVE? 

ARRY  was  a  genuine 
know-nothing  —  not  such 
an  one  as  we  have  about 
now-a-days,  who  profess 
great  love  for  their  coun- 
try, but  show  only  love  to 
themselves ;  who  know 
nothing  of  the  true  inter- 
ests of  their  country,  but 
know  enough  of  other 
things  to  be  able  to  do  a 

vast  deal  of  mischief.  Harry  was  a  real  bona-fide 
know-nothing — an  ignoramus,  who  loved  play,  and 
hated  work,  who  loved  idleness,  and  hated  books, 
and  who,  consequently,  never  learned  anything  use- 
ful, or  failed  to  learn  anything  mischievous.  His 
mother  was  very  indulgent,  and  gave  him  a  great 
variety  of  playthings,  seeming  to  have  no  other 
wish  than  that  Harry  should  "  enjoy  himself."  His 
father  did  not  quite  approve  this  kind  of  education, 
and  used  often  to  say,  that,  if  Harry  did  not  soon 
alter  his  course,  and  learn  something  useful,  he 
would  certainly  "  come  out  of  the  little  end  of  the 
horn  "  at  last. 

When  Harry  was  a  very  little  boy,  he  had  a  kite 


PROSE     AND     i'.  0  E  T  U  Y  . 


67 


given  him,  which  was  taller  than  he  was  himself. 
He  did  not  know  how  to  manage  it,  and  would  not 
wait  till  his  father  came  home,  to  show  him.  He 
rushed  out.  at  once,  into  the  road.  His  mother 
followed  with  little  Charley,  and  offered  her  assist- 
ance. But  Harry,  as  know-nothings  generally  do, 
thought  he  knew  all  about  the  matter.  He  laid  the 
kite  down  on  the  ground,  and  then,  unrolling  his 
string,  ran  furiously  off,  without  heeding  which  way 
the  wind  was  blowing.  As  might  be  expected,  he 
ran  the  wrong  way.  The  kite  did  not  rise,  but  was 
dragged  along  in  the  dust,  till  it  encountered  a 
stone,  and  then,  snap  went  the  back-bone,  and  the 
kite  was  spoiled.  Harry  took  up  the  wreck,  found 
the  paper  torn  in  several  places,  and  the  whole  toy 
utterly  past  mending.  At  this  he  cried  violently, 
and  blamed  his  mother,  for  not  preventing  it.  And 
then — for  thoughtless  boys  are  always  unreasonable 
— he  fell  into  a  passion  with  Charley,  because  he 
laughed,  and  said  "  Mamma  good — Harry  naughty. ?> 
Just  then,  Harry's  father  came  along,  and,  when  he 


68  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

saw  how  things  were  going,  he  took  Harry  into  the 
house,  and  had  a  long  talk  with  him,  trying  to  show 
the  folly  of  passion,  and  the  evils  of  idleness. 
"  Harry,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  if  you  do  not  improve, 
you  will  surely  come  out  of  the  little  end  of  the 
horn." 

As  Harry  grew  older,  he  only  grew  more  fond  of 
play,  and  more  in  love  with  idleness  and  mischief. 
When  he  was  ten  years  old,  he  could  not  read 
respectably,  and  could  not  write  a  word,  or  a  letter. 
He  had  been  sent  to  school,  but  gave  no  attention 
to  his  lessons.  He  often  strayed  away  into  the 
fields,  or  stopped  by  the  way,  to  play  with  all  the  idle 
boys  he  met.  Many  a  time,  I  have  seen  him  in  the 


road,  his  cap  thrown  carelessly  on  the  ground,  and 
his  satchel  by  its  side,  wasting  half  the  morning  in 
playing  at  ball,  or  marbles,  with  some  companion  as 
himself,  and  paying  no  heed  to  the  call  of  the  bell, 
when  it  rang  the  hour  for  school  to  open.  Harry 
thought  this  was  all  fun,  and  that  he  knew  the  way 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  69 

to  be  happy,  better  than  father,  or  mother,  or  teach- 
er, or  all  the  world  beside. 

Well,  in  time  Harry  became  a  man.     His  father 
iied.     His  mother  was  poor  and  he  was  compelled 
,o  do  something  for  his  own  living.    But  what  could 
le  do.     He  had  never  learned  anything  useful.    He 
lad  no  habits  of  study,  or  application,  or  self-denial, 
ill  of  which  are  essential  to  any  kind  of  success. 
NTobody  had  confidence  enough  in  him,  to  trust  him 
,vith  any  important  matter,  or  regard  enough  for 
lim,  to  make  any  great  effort  to  help  him.    He  tried 
various  kinds  of  occupation,  but  proved  so  ignorant 
and  unskillful  in  all  that  he  undertook  to  do,   that 
nobody  was  willing  to  employ  him  long.     The  em- 
ployment he  obtained  was  of  the  lowest  and  most 
aborious  kind,  and  that  which  brought  the  poorest 
.vages.     Harry  was  often  tired  and  often  hungry. 
3e  frequently  regretted  the  idle  and  unprofitable 
jourse  he  had  pursued,  and  wished  he  had  given 
iced  to  the  advice  of  his  father.     Had  he  been  a 
rood,  reader  and  writer,  with  habits  of  diligence,  he 
night  have  secured  a  clerkship  in  some  mercantile 
house,  or  a  place  in  a  railroad  ofiice.    Had  he  given 
early  attention  to  his  arithmetic,  he  might  have  be- 
come an  engineer,  or  a  surveyor,  or  perhaps  a  teach- 
er.    But,  alas  !  poor  Harry,  he  was  fit  for  nothing, 
but  plain  hard  work.     He  had  no  resources  in  him- 
self— no  knowledge  of  history,  or  the  world,  no 
thoughts   worth   dwelling    upon.      And,  when   he 
nought  of  his  early  home,  of  his  kind  father,  of  the 


70 

many  lessons  he  had  received,  the  warnings  he  had 
wantonly  slighted,  he  felt  and  acknowledged  that 
he  was  already,  as  his  father  had  often  predicted, 
coming  out  of  the 


LITTLE    END    OF    THE    HORN. 


A  GOOD  RULE. — It  is  always  a  good  rule  to  fol- 
low, to  step  in  no  path,  to  speak  no  word,  to  com- 
mit no  act,  when  conscience  appears  to  whisper, 
Beware.  You  had  better  wait  a  twelvemonth,  and 
learn  your  duty,  than  to  take  a  hasty  step,  and 
bring  tears  and  repentance  to  a  dying  day.  How 
many  a  lost  man  might  have  been  saved,  had  he  list- 
ened to  an  inward  monitor,  and  resisted  the  first 
inclination  to  deviate  from  the  holy  path  of  recti- 
tude. Sec  far  away  before  you,  and  on  either  side, 
the  ground  whitened  with  the  bones  and  sinews  of 
millions  who  have  perished  ignobly  in  the  march  of 
life.  They  resisted  the  spirit  of  truth,  and  fell. 
They  trusted  to  themselves,  and  sunk  at  the  onset. 
Take  warning  by  them.*  Could  their  bones  live, 
breathe,  and  speak,  how  earnestly  would  they  ap- 
peal to  you !  They  would  compel  you,  as  it  were, 
to  pursue  a  virtuous  course,  that  your  end  might  be 
joyous  and  not  degraded. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  71 

THE    CHILD  AND   THE  ANGEL. 

"  ALOXE  upon  the  beach  I  stray, 
The  curling  waves  around  me  play 
I  sing  my  merry  roundelay," 

Thus  spake  a  little  child. 
''  Sweet  child,"  said  I,  "  why  free  from  care, 
Why  stray  you  fearless  everywhere, 
Nor  have  a  thought  of  how  you'll  fare 

When  storms  are  howling  wild  ?" 

"  Once  on  a  time,  I  dreamed  a  dream, 
And,  stranger,  then  it  seemed  to  seem 
As  though  an  angel's  kindly  beam 

Shone,  dazzling,  round  my  head. 
That  beauteous  form,  it  said  to  me, 
'  I  shall  thy  guardian  angel  be  ; 
Therefore  be  fearless,  wild,  and  free. 

Nor  make  thy  cares  like  lead. 

"  '  When  future  cares  before  thee  rise, 
Think  not  of  them,  but  be  thou  r/ise ; 
Seize  every  moment  as  it  flies, 

And  do  thy  duty  then. 
Thus  shalt  thou  do  that  which  is  right, 
Which  having  done  with  heart  contrite, 
When  Death  removes,  thoul't  live  in  light, 

Far,  far  from  human  ken.' 

"  Thus  spake  the  angel  unto  me, 
And  this  is  why  I'm  merry,  free, 
Gladsome,  blithe,  and  full  of  glee — 

I  do  my  duty  now." 

"  Yes,  child,  thour't  right,  thou  doest  well, 
Thy  seniors  thou  dost  much  excel ; 
I'll  go  and  thy  sweet  lesson  tell 

To  every  one  I  know." 


72 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


STORY   OF   THE    TWO   MILLERS, 

OR   THE   DANGER   OF   DELAY. 

JOHN  and  William  Davis  were  millers,  and  occu- 
pied a  place  on  the  side  of  the  river.  A  channel 
which  had  been  cut  from  the  river  supplied  them 
with  water,  and  no  one  ever  passed  the  little  foot- 
bridge, by  the  flood-gates,  without  peeping  into  the 
mill  ;  for  the  hoppers  made  such  a  clatter,  and  the 
socks  went  up  and  down  so  briskly,  that  it  was 
quite  clear  John  and  William  Davis  were  doing 
considerable  business.  Up  in  the  morning  at  five, 
they  industriously  began  the  busy  day,  and  it  was 
only  when  the  river  was  very  low  that  the  water- 
wheels  were  not  whirling  round  amid  the  foaming 
waters. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  73 

The  mill  had  belonged  to  their  father  before 
them,  and  had  got  much  out  of  repair  ;  and  the 
roof  let  in  the  rain,  and  the  river  had,  by  little  and 
little,  worn  away  the  bank  till  there  was  some  fear 
that  the  foundation  of  the  mill  would  be  weakened. 
John  and  William  were  told  this  by  their  neigh- 
bors— they  saw  it  with  their  own  eyes ;  but  still 
they  delayed  repairing  the  roof  and  the  embank- 
ment, till  the  danger  had  considerably  increased. 
"  We  must  do  something  to  them  next  summer," 
said  John.  "Ay/7  replied  William,  "for  if  we  do 
not,  the  mill  will  come  down  sure  enough.'7  The 
summer  came,  but  as  it  was  not  a  very  dry  one,  they 
continued  very  busy,  and  the  repairs  of  the  mill 
were  quite  out  of  the  question.  "  I  tell  you  what," 
said  William,  "  it  does  not  signify  talking,  but  the 
mill  must  be  repaired  this  next  summer."  "  True," 
replied  John,  "  for  if  it  be  not,  we  shall  soon  have 
it  about  our  ears."  Notwithstanding  those  resolu- 
tions, summer  came  and  went,  and  no  repairs  took 
place  at  the  mill. 

Now  all  this  time,  the  rain  was  pelting  worse 
and  worse  through  the  roof,  and  the  bank  was 
being  washed  away  by  little  and  little,  till  every 
neighbor  saw  that  the  danger  was  great.  John  and 
William  had,  from  time  to  time,  patched  up,  here 
and  there,  a  hole  in  the  roof,  and  now  and  then  put 
a  few  spades  of  earth  against  the  bank,  but  all  this 
amounted  to  nothing.  Indeed  it  was  worse  thwi 
nothing,  for  it  only  deceived  them  into  a  belief  of 
their  security. 


74  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

"  I  am  thinking/'  said  Mr.  Horton,  the  stone- 
mason, as  he  passed  one  windy  day  over  the  foot- 
bridge, "  that  neither  this  bridge  nor  the  mill  will 
stand  fifty  years  longer.  The  first  flood  will  bring 
an  old  house  over  somebody's  head." 

Mi*.  Horton  saw  the  danger  but  too  clearly,  for 
that  very  same  day  the  river  rose  rapidly,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  rain  which  had  fallen  on  the  hills,  and 
the  wind  and  rain  beat  upon  the  roof  of  the  mill  till 
a  part  of  it  fell  in  with  a  terrible  crash.  This  was 
a  sad  affair,  for  now  there  was  no  possibility  of 
putting  off  the  repairs,  though  it  was  a  bad  time  of 
the  year  to  begin  them.  John  and  William  went  off 
in  a  hurry  to  consult  Mr.  Horton  about  the  expense 
of  a  new  roof,  but  while  they  were  talking  about 
it,  Samuel  Ball,  the  miller's  man,  came  breathless 
with  haste,  and  pale  with  fear,  to  tell  them  that 
the  river  had  undermined  the  foundation  of  the  mill, 
and  that  one-half  of  it  was  level  with  the  ground. 

John  and  William  Davis  had  been  recommended, 
fifty  times  over,  to  build  a  new  mill  a  little  further 
from  the  running  waters,  but  they  thought  of  the  ex- 
pense, and  hoped  the  old  mill  would  last  at  least  a 
few  years  longer,  especially  as  every  summer  they 
intended  to  put  it  in  repair.  They  had,  however, 
neglected  to  repair  the  old  mill,  and  delayed  to 
build  a  new  one,  till  it  was  too  late.  The  old  one 
was  now  in  a  condition  too  bad  to  be  repaired,  and 
they  had  no  new  one  to  remove  to.  So  they  lost  at 
once,  their  mill,  their  customers,  and  their  means  of 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


75 


TIMOTHY   FENNEL'S   REFLECTIONS 

VERY  body  knows  that 
Timothy's  mother  was  a 
very  "  reflecting "  wo- 
man. When  Timothy 
proposed  a  visit  to  New 
York,  the  old  lady  would 
only  consent  to  his  enter- 
ing so  wicked  a  place  on 
condition  that  he  should 
make  "  practical  reflec- 
tions "  on  all  that  he  saw.  So  he  came  to  our  city, 
and  saw  everything  that  was  visible,  but  forgot  all 
about  the  moral  reflections,  until  the  time  had  nearly 
come  for  him  to  return  home.  He  now  began  to 
reflect  on  the  reflections  his  mother  would  cast  upon 
him,  when  she  knew  how  unreflecting  he  had  been. 
However,  he  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  what 
time  remained  ;  so,  having  seated  himself  in  a 
Broadway  stage,  he  mused  somewhat  in  the  follow- 
ing manner  : 

"  Shakspeare  said  that '  all  the  world  is  a  stage/ 
Now  if  the  world  is  a  stage,  a  stage  is  all  the 
world.  Nothing  is  more  evident.  Now,  I'll  see 
what  the  resemblances  are,  and  here  is  one,  right  at 
hand.  Before  I  entered  this  stage  it  was  empty — 
not  a  single  occupant.  So  it  once  was  with  this 
world — both  nicely  fitted  up  for  man,  but  as  yet  no 
man  to  occupy  them,  and  then  Adam  took  posses- 


76  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

sion  of  the  world,  and  so  have  I  of  this  stage. 
Striking  comparison  !  I  feel  Adam  to  be  a  brother. 
Wonder  if  he  didn't  feel  lonely?  I  do.  Wonder 
if  he  didn't  feel  it  was  a  pity  that  so  muoh  room 
should  be  wasted  ?  I  do.  Yes,  Adam,  you  and  I 
have  a  common  bond  of  sympathy  !  But  here  comes 
a  woman,  another  Eve.  Resemblance  holds  good, 
all  but  the  Eden,  for  I  must  confess  I  don't  find 
that  quiet  repose  which  I  imagine  them  to  have  en- 
joyed. This  road  is  rough,  but  it  probably  refers 
to  the  world  after  the  fall.  There  the  analogy  will 
hold  again.  Life  is  rough,  to  be  sure,  a  stony 
ground,  and  we  are  whirled  over  it  with  little  re- 
gard to  our  individual  feelings.  Think  a  few  more 
inhabitants  here  would  give  some  stability  to  our 
movements — and  we  shall  have  them  no  doubt,  for 
the  world  soon  began  to  be  filled.  And,  sure  enough, 
here  comes  a  Cain,  and  an  Abel,  a  Seth  and  Enos, 
and  still  they  come,  men,  women,  and  children. 

Now  we  are  full — rather  more  crowded  than  the 
people  of  the  world  are.  We  jog  on  together,  know- 
ing little  of  each  other,  caring  less.  Still  a  resem- 
blance. Well,  what  a  variety  of  forms,  faces,  and 
manners !  Analogy  good.  Here's  a  man  who 
evidently  feels  that  he  has  the  undisputed  right  to 
as  much  space  aS  any  other  two  persons.  Esquire 
Thome,  of  our  place.  And  there  are  these  same 
Esquire  Thornes  in  every  place,  And  there  is  a 
little  woman  who  has  shrunk  back  into  herself,  un- 
til she  seems  to  occupy  no  space  at  all  ;  she  is  wil- 


PROSE     AND    POETRY.  77 

ling  to  yield  her  rights  to  such  a  big  man  as  Esquire 
Thorne.     One  of  the  Aunt  Marys  of  the  world. 
There  is  a  youth  who  is  evidently  making  a  great 
effort  to   extend  himself  to   such   proportions   as 
would  suit  the  dignity  of  a  full-grown  man.     Shak- 
speare  was  a  wise  man  !     A  child  cries — -just  as  it 
should  be  !     What  would   this  world  be  without 
cries  and  tears  ?    And  here  is  another  resemblance. 
We  have  nothing  to  do  in  guiding  this  vehicle. 
The  reins  are  in  the  hands  of  another,  and  we  are, 
for  the  time  being,  entirely  at  his   disposal ;   so 
there's  One  who  guides  the  affairs  of  this  world,  in- 
dependently of  any  acts  of  ours.     Mother  will  like 
that  thought,  I  am  sure.    But  lo  !  one  has  come  to 
his  destination.     So  man  has  an  appointed  time  on 
the  earth,  and  the  end  will  come — to  some  the  road 
is  longer,  but  every  road  has  an  end.    He  pays  the 
debt  of  nature  (in  the  form  of  a  sixpence),  and  is 
gone.     There  is  a  vacant  seat,  but  here  comes  some 
one  to  fill  it.     "  One  generation  passeth  away,  and 
another  cometh."    Analogy  perfect.     And  now  our 
new-comer  sits  there  just  as  if  he  had  had  the  earli- 
est and  sole  title,  and  even  we  have  almost  forgot- 
ten the  face  of   the  first  occupant.     The  world 
exactly  !   Only  a  few  weeks  ago  Dr.  Maghtean  died, 
and  we  all  mourned,  and  said  a  man  could  never  be 
found  to  fill  his  place,  his  death  had  made  such  a 
breach.    Now  Dr.  Bardow  is  carrying  his  saddle- 
bags, and  half  the  people  have  forgotten  that  it  was 
not  always  Dr.  Bardow,  and  they  are  just  as  will- 


78  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

ing  to  take  their  certificate  for  leaving  the  world 
from  Dr.  Bardow  as  from  Dr.  Maghtean  ;  and  Dr. 
Bardow  has  forgotten,  too,  and  thinks  no  more  of 
those  who  were  before  him,  or  who  shall  be  aftor 
him,  than  does  the  present  subject  of  our  reflections. 
And  now  they  are  dropping  oflf,  one  by  one.  So 
goes  the  world,  "  Friend  after  friend  departs,"  and 
if  I  don't  depart  soon  from  this  stage,  I  shall  be 
left  the  sole  occupant  again.  Sure  enough !  I  am 
all  alone.  Hope  I  shall  not  be  left  the  last  one  in 
this  world,  for,  as  Jenny  Lind  said,  "  who  would 
inhabit  this  world  alone  ?"  Hope  at  any  rate  my 
mother  will  stay  and  live  with  me.  That  will  be 
a  pleasing  reflection  for  mother.  I'll  lay  stress 
on  that,  for  I  shall  wish  to  come  to  New  York 
again.  Stage  stops.  Well,  I  suppose  I  may  say 
I've  passed  through  the  world,  and  the  time  of  my 
departure  is  at  hand,  and  I  feel  entirely  ready  to 
leave  this  moving  scene.  Hope  I  may  be  as  willing 
to  leave  the  world  when  my  time  comes.  Poor,  old 
stage,  you  will  not  always  last.  I  see  signs  of  de- 
cay even  now,  and  I  suppose  the  time  will  come 
when  you  will  be  good  for  nothing  but  fuel  for  the 
fire,  and,  so,  as  my  good  mother  often  remarks,  this 
world  is  to  be  burned  up  at  some  future  day.  Oh  ! 
Shakspeare  was  a  wise  man.  "  This  world  is  a 
stage,"  and  a  stage  is  this  world. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY 


79 


THE  PLOUGH   BOY. 

WHERE  winds  blow  pure  and  freely, 
And  blossoms  load  the  air, 
And  green  trees  wave  their  leafy  boughs, 

And  all  around  looks  fair, 
I  ply  my  daily  labor, 

And  work  till  night  has  come  ; 
And  then  return  contented, 

To  rest  myself  at  home. 

How  sweet  unto  the  weary., 

Is  such  unvexed  repose, 
When  evening's  length'ning  shadows 

Around  our  cottage  close  ; 
And  with  quiet  in  our  bosoms, 

We  sit  in  twilight's  shades, 
And  watch  the  crimson  radiance, 

As  from  the  west  it  fades. 


80 


And  then  how  fresh  the  slumber, 

Which  falls  upon  our  eyes  ; 
When  night's  clear  dews  are  falling, 

And  stars  are  in  the  skies ! 
No  feverish  dreams  affright  us, 

And  make  us  start,  and  weep  ; 
But  trusting  in  God's  kindly  care, 

We  kindly  sink  to  bleep. 

And  then  ere  morning  flushes 

Along  the  eastern  skies, 
We  bless  the  care  that  watched  us, 

And,  nerved  to  labor,  rise. 
We  see  the  day-star  fading, 

We  see  the  vapors  glide, 
Along  the  misty  vales  below 

And  up  the  mountain's  side. 

Again  our  hardy  sinews 

Are  bent  to  manly  toil, 
Again  we  mow  the  waving  grass, 

Or  plough  the  dewy  soil. 
And  ever  when  our  labors 

For  the  day  are  past  and  done, 
We  sit  before  our  cottage  door, 

And  watch  the  setting  sun. 


SOWN  in  darkness,  or  sown  in  light, 
Sown  in  weakness,  or  sown  in  might, 
Sown  in  meekness,  or  sown  in  wrath, 
n  the  broad  world-field  or  the  shadowy  path, 
Sure  will  the  harvest  be. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


81 


SPELLING   THE   DICTIONARY. 

ROWNJOHN,  our  teach- 
er who  wielded  the  hick- 
ory sceptre  a  while  in 
the  old  brown  school- 
house  on  the  corner, 
where  the  rudiments  of 
learning  were  worked 
into  my  head,  had  a  daily 
exercise  in  spelling  some- 
what out  of  the  common 
course.  Each  member  of 

our  class  selected  from  the  dictionary  any  word  he 
pleased,  taking  care  to  learn  both  how  to  spell  it 
and  how  to  define  it.  At  the  close  of  the  ordinary 
spelling-lesson,  the  scholar  who  stood  at  the  head  of 
the  class  spelled  the  word  he  had  selected,  arid  then 
the  next  below  gave  the  definition  of  it,  if  he  could. 
If  he  could  not,  the  word  was  passed  down  farther, 
till  it  came  to  some  one  able  to  tell  its  meaning. 
Whoever  did  this  took  his  place  in  the  class  above 
as  many  as  had  failed.  Then  the  second  from  the 
head  spelled  his  word,  and  the  definition  of  it  was 
called  for  along  down  the  line  in  a  similar  manner. 
And  so  on  till  all  had  given  out  their  selections. 

That  was  not  a  bad  plan,  was  it  ?  Many  a  worse 
thing  may  be  done  in  school  than  learning  the 
dictionary.  Have  you  never  heard  how  Daniel 


82  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

Webster  answered  one  who  inquired  in  what  way 
he  could  become  skillful  and  fluent  in  the  use  of 
language  ?  "  Read  dictionaries,"  said  he  ;  "I  read 
dictionaries.  Are  such  books  too  dry  to  read, 
think  you  ?  There  is  great  benefit  in  reading  them, 
nevertheless ;  I  know  that  from  my  own  expe- 
rience. Anybody  might  know  as  much  from  his 
own  common  sense.  Why,  just  think  a  minute.  A 
good  English  Dictionary,  for  instance,  contains  all 
the  words  in  our  language,  together  with  an  exhi- 
bition of  their  meaning  and  use.  What  readier 
way,  then,  can  one  take,  to  form  an  acquaintance 
with  our  language,  and  to  gain  a  full  command  of 
it,  than  to  study  the  dictionary,  and  transfer  its 
treasures  to  the  mind  ? 


THE     SCHOOLBOYS. 


PEOSE     AND     POETRY.  83 

This,  though,  is  not  what  I  set  out  to  say,  exactly. 
I  had  in  mind,  a  little  incident  connected  with  our 
spelling  and  defining,  that  amused  us  prodigiously 
one  day.  A  certain  scholar,  remarkable  for  nothing 
in  particular,  except  for  a  quantity  of  sense  a  little 
less  than  common,  when  his  turn  came  to  deliver 
the  word  he  had  selected,  roared  out  with  consider- 
able vigor,  "b-u-t,  but."  Instantly  we  all  put  on  a 
broad  grin,  and  turned  our  eyes  to  the  teacher  to 
see  what  turn  affairs  would  take.  We  had  to  wait 
but  a  short  time  for  that.  Mr.  Brownjohn  soon  be- 
gan, as  usual,  to  call  for  the  definition  of  the  word. 
I  suspect  he  did  so  just  for  form's  sake.  If  he  real- 
ly thought  we  could  give  the  meaning  of  such  a 
word  as  but,  he  must  have  had  a  pretty  high  opin- 
ion of  our  abilities,  or,  at  least,  of  our  acquaintance 
with  the  niceties  of  language.  Had  we  thought  of 
it,  we  might,  indeed,  have  referred  to  Noah  Web- 
ster's famous  old  spelling-book,  where,  next  to  "  butt, 
a  barrel/7  stood  "  but,  except."  In  fact,  howerer, 
none  of  us  thought  of  it ;  nor  would  that  account  of 
the  matter  have  thrown  much  light  into  ouf  minds, 
had  some  one  chanced  to  have  refreshed  our  memo- 
ries with  it. 

Down  went  the  word  along  the  class,  one  frankly 
owning  that  he  could  tell  nothing  about  it,  and 
another  shaking  his  head  in  sign  of  ignorance  ;  till 
at  lengthy  fellow  who  stood  away  toward  the  foot, 
began  to  show  symptoms  of  having  caught  the 
idea.  His  eye  twinkled,  a  smile  of  satisfaction 


84  M  E  R  R  Y  '  S     G  E  M  S     OF 

beamed  in  his  face,  and  he  stood  with  one  foot  ad- 
vanced, ready  for  a  movement  along  up  the  liae. 
His  whole  look  and  manner  thus  declared  to  us, 
about  as  plainly  as  his  tongue  could,  "  Ah!  now  I 
have  it."  He  seemed  impatient  to  deliver  himself, 
and  the  instant  his  turn  came  he  sounded  out  boldly 
— "  but  end  of  a  log  f  and  before  the  word  was 
fairly  out  of  his  mouth,  he  made  a  spring  for  a  con- 
siderably higher  place  in  the  class.  Mr.  Brown- 
John  gave  him  a  check,  however,  and  told  him  that 
his  definition  of  the  word  would  hardly  do.  If  we 
had  not  then  a  hearty  laugh  all  round,  then  we 
never  had  one  in  that  old  brown  school-house. 

"  Did  not  that  fellow  pass  among  his  companions 
for  a  genius  ?"  I  rather  think  not.  I  never  heard 
anything  of  the  kind.  If  I  remember  right,  we  con- 
sidered him  remarkable  for  nothing  but  this  :  he 
had  a  way,  both  in  speaking  and  in  reading,  of  put- 
ting what  we  called  a  hook  on  to  the  end  of  a  word  ; 
as,  for  example,  "  All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but 
themselves — eh."  It  may  be,  though,  that  he  had 
genius,  and  that  it  began  to  bud  on  that  very  day 
when  that  little  incident  happened.  At  any  rate,  I 
know  that  he  grew  to  something  afterward.  Only 
three  or  four  of  those  who  attended  our  school  at 
that  time  ever  got  a  liberal  education  ;  and  he  was 
one  of  them.  * 

After  leaving  college,  he  worked  himself  up  in 
the  world  to— I  can't  tell  you  where.  The  last 
time  I  heard  of  him,  which  was  several  years  ago, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  85 

he  was  laboring  as  a  teacher  in  a  high-school.  You 
see  there  is  no  telling  beforehand  what  a  boy  will 
make.  Sometimes  dull  scholars,  and  those  who  are 
despised  and  laughed  at,  yet  wake  up  and  outstrip 
their  fellows,  and  come  to  shine  as  lights  in  the 
world. 


ON  A  GOOD  HOUSE-DOG  CALLED  "  WATCH." 

POOR  faithful  Watch  1  thy  watch  of  life  is  o'er, 

A.nd  mute  and  senseless  near  the  kitchen  door 

Thou  layest,  a  breathless  corpse,  where  thou  stood  to  guard 

before ; 

Thy  pliant  temper,  known  and  praised  by  all, 
Thy  prompt  obedience  to  thy  master's  call ; 
Whether  to  climb  the  hill,  or  scour  the  plain, 
Or  drive  enroaching  hogs  from  out  the  lane  ; 
Thy  quick  return,  on  motion  of  his  hand, 
To  guard  the  door,  or  wait  a  fresh  command ; 
Thy  joy  to  meet  at  eve,  with  fawning  play, 
Domestic  faces,  absent  but  a  day ; 
Thy  bark,  that  might  the  boldest  thief  affright, 
And  patient  watch,  through  many  a  dreary  night — 
All  speak  thy  worth,  but  none  could  save  thy  breath, 
For  what  is  merit  'gainst  the  shafts  of  death  ; 
Sleep,  then,  my  dog !  thy  tour  of  duty  o'er, 
Where  thief  and  trav'ler  can  disturb  no  more  ;  * 

Content  t'  have  gained  all  that  thou  canst  have — 
Thy  master's  plaudit,  and  a  peaceful  grave ! 


86 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


OLD  WHITTEMORE  HILL. 

FEW  there  are  among  our  readers  but  that  the 
recollection  of  some  old  hill,  or  stream,  or 
glen,  wakes  in  their  hearts,  the  memories  of  early 
childhood,  and  recalls  to  mind  the  scenes  of  youth- 
ful days  of  pleasure  and  of  joy.  To  me  the  old 
Whittemore  hill — with  its  stately  pine  on  its  very 
summit  with  solemn  look  toward  heaven,  though 
blasted  by  the  lightning's  flash,  and  stripped  of  all 
its  early  green — stands  as  a  beacon  light  between 
childhood  and  old  age,  reminding  me  that  men — 
like  trees — grow  old,  and  die  ;  and  yet  bringing 
back  the  loved  scenes  of  early  youth  with  all  their 
joys  and  happiness,  making  every  pulse  beat  with 
fresh  vigor,  and  I  feel  as  young  as  when,  on  the  first 
fourth  of  July  I  was  large  enough  for  my  mother 


PROSE     AND      POETRY  87 

to  think  it  prudent  for  me  to  undertake  the  difficult 
task  of  trying  to  ascend  to  the  top  without  assist- 
ance. I  made  the  effort ;  the  result  was  a  decided 
success.  Standing  on  the  top-most  stone,  the  proud- 
est day  of  my  life — for  though  I  have  ascended  many 
times  since  to  a  far  greater  height,  yet  never  with 
such  wild  enthusiasm  and  bursting  joy — I  shouted 
and  hallooed  to  the  extent  of  my  lungs  till  wood- 
land and  vale,  and  the  surrounding  hills  echoed 
back  the  "  sounding  joy."  And  then  the  sight 
that  met  my  view.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  old 
Souhegan  river  meandered  through  the  meadows  in 
slow  and  solemn  flow  towards  the  ocean.  Large 
tracts  of  woodland — wide  spreading  vales — thriv- 
ing villages,  and  long  line  of  mountains  were 
spread  out  before  me  in  all  their  beauty.  I  sup- 
posed the  whole  world  was  then  visible  before  me, 
I  fancied  that  old  "  Watatic  "  was  Mt.  Vesuvius, 
and  wondered  why  the  crater  did  not  burn.  To 
the  west,  the  "  Rocky  Mountains,"  were  plainly  vis- 
ible, while  to  the  north  and  east  the  "  Himalays  " 
and  "  Mountains  of  the  Moon  "  rose  "  highest  in 
the  world."  "  Wachuset,"  to  the  south  was  the 
commencement  of  the  range  of  the  "  Andes,"  while 
far  to  the  west,  beyond  all  others  rose  grand  "  Mo- 
nadnoc  " — the  "  Chimborazo  "  of  my  geography — 
"  five  miles  high  above  the  level  of  the  sea," — said 
geography  being  whipped  into  me  by  old  Birch,  who 
ruled  supreme  in  the  square-roofed  school-house  at 
the  foot  of  the  Hill,  upon  which  I  now  looked  down 


88 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


PROSE. AND     POETRY.  89 

with  contempt.  Not  but  that  I  enjoyed  going  to 
school  as  much  as  any  one,  for  I  could  play  as  hard 
and  as  long  as  any  of  them  when  let  loose  from  school, 
and  as  I  look  back  to  those  early  days  I  can  only 
wish  that  the  hours  of  study  had  been  better  spent, 
that  the  hours  of  play  could  have  been  better  en- 
joyed. Don't  try  to  get  through  school  too  fast, 
boys,  or  finish  your  studies  too  quick.  I  was 
ready  to  take  the  burden  old  Father  Time  had  for 


me  to  bear,  before  I  knew  its  weight,  or  was  pre- 
pared to  battle  with  the  stern  duties  of  life.  You 
will  find  as  I  did,  that  you  could  not  see  all  the 
world  at  once  from  the  top  of  one  little  hill,  how- 
ever high,  and  however  much  loved  ;  be  patient,  act 
well  your  part  each  day,  as  the  day  comes  round, 
and  let  night  find  each  duty  done,  then,  with  light 
hearts  of  joy,  lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 


90  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

"AN   AX   TO    GRIND." 

ORIGIN     OF    THE    TERM. 

%T7HEN  I  was  a  little  boy,  says  Dr.  Franklin,  I 
Vf  remember  one  cold  winter  morning  I  was  ac- 
costed by  a  smiling  man  with  an  ax  on  his  shoulder. 
"  My  pretty  boy,"  said  he,  "  has  your  father  a  grind- 
stone ?"  "  Yes,  sir/'  said  I.  "  You  are  a  fine  little 
fellow,  said  he  ;  "  will  you  let  me  grind  rny  ax  on 
it  ?"  Pleased  with  the  compliment  of  the  "  fine  little 
fellow,"  "  0  yes,'7  I  answered  ;  "  it  is  down  in  the 
shop."  "  And  will  you,  my  little  fellow,"  said  he, 
patting  me  on  the  head,  "  get  me  a  little  hot 
water  ?"  Could  I  refuse  ?  I  ran  and  soon  brought 
a  kettle  full.  "  How  old  are  you  and  what's  your 
name  ?"  continued  he,  without  waiting  for  a  reply  ; 
"  I  am  sure  you  are  one  of  the  finest  little  fellows 
that  I  ever  saw — will  you  just  turn  a  few  minutes 
for  me  ?"  Tickled  at  the  flattery,  like  a  fool  I  went 
to  work,  and  bitterly  did  I  rue  the  day.  It  was  a 
new  ax,  and  I  toiled  and  tugged  till  I  was  almost 
tired  to  death.  The  school-bell  rang  and  I  could 
not  get  away  ;  my  hands  were  blistered,  the  ax  was 
sharpened,  and  the  man  turned  to  me  with,  "  Now, 
you  little  rascal,  you've  played  truant  ;  scud  for 
school  or  you'll  rue  it,"  Alas !  thought  I,  it  is  hard 
enough  to  turn  the  grindstone  this  cold  day,  but  to 
be  called  a  little  rascal  was  too  much.  It  sunk 
deep  in  my  mind,  and  often  have  I  thought  of  it 
since.  When  I  see  a  merchant  over  polite  to  his 


PROSE    A  XD     POETRY.  91 

customers,  begging  them  to  take  a  little  brandy, 
and  throwing  his  goods  on  the  counter,  thinks  I, 
that  man  has  an  ax  to  grind.  When  I  see  a  man 
flattering  the  people,  making  great  profession  of  at- 
tachment to  liberty,  who  is  in  private  life  a  tyrant, 
methinks,  look  out,  good  people,  that  fellow  would 
set  you  turning  a  grindstone.  When  I  see  a  man 
hoisted  into  office  by  party  spirit,  without  a  single 
qualification  to  render  him  respectable  or  useful, 
alas  !  deluded  people,  you  are  doomed  for  a  season 
to  turn  the  grindstone  for  a  body. 


SCENE  IN  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

"  THOMAS,  open  that  door,"  said  the  teacher,  as  a 
loud  pounding  was  heard  in  the  entry. 

Thomas  did  go,  and  ushered  in  three  as  ragged 
specimens  of  humanity  as  could  be  found. 

"  Well,  my  little  man/7  said  the  teacher,  "  what's 
your  name  ?" 

"  My  name,"  replied  he,  "  is  Dan." 

"  You  mean  Daniel,  said  he,  raising  up  his  eye 
brows. 

"  Yours  ?"  pointing  to  the  next. 

"  Mine  is  Sam." 

u  Samuel  you  mean,"  said  he,  with  a  half  smile. 

Then,  turning  to  the  youngest,  he  was  about  to 
put  the  same  question.  But  before  the  words  could 
escape  from  his  mouth,  with  a  grin  of  triumph  the 
youngster  exclaimed,  "  Jimud" 


92 


M  E  a  B  Y  '  S     GEMS     O 


SWEET  WILL  BE   OUR   REST. 

CHILD  !  the  day  is  fleeting  past. 
And  the  night  will  soon  be  here, 

When  to  thee  I  shall  be  borne 
Slowly  on  my  funeral  bier. 

Then,  my  darling,  by  thy  side 
I  will  lay  me  down  to  sleep  ; 

All  ray  longings  will  be  hushed, 
While  dear  ones  above  us  weep. 

And  within  this  lowly  bed, 
Father,  brother,  sister  dear 

All  the  loved  ones  of  thy  heart 
Soon  shall  be  beside  thee  here. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  93 

'Neath  the  mantle  of  the  grave, 

Slumbering  on  earth's  quiet  breast 
Till  the  morning  light  shall  dawn, 

Sweet,  my  child,  will  be  our  rest. 

May  we  wake,  on  that  bright  morn, 

With  a  sin-forgiven  heart — 
Meet  around  the  great  white  Throne 

Never,  never  more  to  part. 


LOOK  AT  HOME. 

SHOULD  you  feel  inclined  to  censure 
Faults  which  you  in  others  view, 

Ask  your  own  heart  ere  you  venture, 
If  that  has  not  failings  too. 

Let  not  friendly  vows  be  broken — 
Eather  strive  a  friend  to  gain  • 

Many  a  word  in  anger  spoken 
Finds  its  passage  home  again. 

Do  not,  then,  in  idle  pleasure, 
Trifle  with  a  brother's  fame  ; 

Guard  it  as  a  sacred  treasure, 
Sacred  as  your  own  good  name. 

Do  not  form  opinions  blindly — 
Hastiness  to  trouble  tends  ; 
hose  of  whom  we've  thought  unkindly » 
Oft  become  our  warmest  friends. 


94  If  E  E.R  Y  '  S     G  E  M  3     0  F 


THE   PRACTICAL   JOKER. 

A  RTHUR  M -  was  a  bright  little  boy  of  ten 

JLJL  years,  and  his  pleasant  face  and  cheerful  spirit 
seemed  like  a'  ray  of  heaven's  own  blessed  sunlight 
in  his  mother's  otherwise  solitary  dwelling.  But  I 
am  sorry  to  say  Arthur  was  not  loved,  by  his  com- 
panions. He  was  a  practical  joker,  and  his  little 
friends  were  in  constant  fear,  when  in  his  company, 
of  having  some  very  unpleasant  trick  played  upon 
them.  If  they  went  to  gather  nuts  or  berries,  he 
did  love  to  kill  a  snake  and  throw  it  around  some 
boy's  neck,  just  for  the  fun  of  hearing  him  scream. 
When  they  went  to  bathe,  they  often  found  a  frog 
in  their  pockets,  or  their  shoes  would  be  filled  with 
angle  worms.  And  he  was  sometimes  so  very  cruel 
as  to  take  away  a  boy's  dinner,  and  fill  his  basket 
with  stones. 

These  things  were  very  annoying,  and  at  length 
Arthur  was  left  to  play  alone,  or  to  go  home  to  Ms 
little  sister.  Dear  little  Eliza  was  just  beginning 
to  go  to  school,  and  Arthur  loved  her  very  much. 
But  his  love  of  fun,  as  he  called  it,  was  sometimes 
so  strong,  that  he  would  even  overturn  his  sled,  and 
throw  the  sweet  little  girl  into  the  snow.  His 
mother  strove  in  vain  to  correct  this  cruel  propen- 
sity, and  she  felt  some  anxiety  on  his  account  when 
a  new  father  came  to  take  charge  of  his  education. 
His  own  father  died  when  he  was  a  babe,  and  of 


PROSE     AND     POETRY,  95 

course  he  had  never  known  a  father's  love.  But  he 
was  very  much  pleased  when  a  pleasant,  smiling 
gentleman  came  to  live  with  them,  and  he  was  told 
he  might  call  him  father. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  after  Mrs.  M was 

married  to  Mr.  L.,  Arthur  was  told  to  cut  some 
potatoes,  and  give  them  to  the  cow.  He  obeyed 
very  cheerfully,  cut  the  potatoes,  and  carried  them 
to  the  barn  ;  but  when  he  placed  them  before  the 
cow,  he  turned  a  peck  measure  over  them,  so  that 
the  cow  could  not  eat  them.  "  My  son/  said  Mr. 
L.  when  he  returned,  "  did  you  give  the  potatoes  to 
the  cow  ?"  "  Yes  sir/'  he  replied,  but  the  merry 
twinkle  of  his  eye  led  his  father  to  suspect  some- 
thing wrong,  and  he  very  soon  went  to  the  barn 
himself.  Arthur  was  frightened  when  he  saw  him 
go  out,  for  he  expected  a  whipping.  But  no  notice 
was  taken  of  the  joke,  as  he  called  it, 

Soon  there  was  a  snow-storm  ;  and  when  it 
passsed  away,  the  snow  lay  piled  in  drifts  on  both 
sides  the  road.  Arthur  started  for  school  the  next 
morning,  drawing  his  little  sister  on  his  sled  ;  but 
when  he  came  near  the  deep  drifts,  suddenly  the 
sled  was  overturned,  and  Eliza  was  buried  in  the 
snow.  Arthur  sprang  to  take  her  up,  and  very  ten- 
derly led  her  back  to  the  house.  But  his  father 
stood  at  the  window,  and  saw  the  whole  transaction. 
Next  morning  Mr.  L.  said  pleasantly,  4|  I'll  draw 
you  to  school  this  morning,  if  you  like."  Arthur 
was  delighted.  He  thought  his  father  was  very 


96  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

kind  indeed.  But  when  they  came  to  the  drift, 
suddenly  the  sled  was  overturned,  and  he  was 
buried  in  the  snow. 

"  You  must  learn  to  hold  on  better  than  this," 
said  Mr.  L.  "  if  you  mean  I  shall  draw  you."  And 
he  quietly  returned  to  the  house,  leaving  Arthur  to 
get  out  as  he  could. 

11  0  !  chicken  for  dinner  !  chicken  for  dinner  ! 
shouted  Arthur  as  he  returned  from  school  and  saw 
his  favorite  dish  on  the  table,  They  were  soon 
seated,  and  Mr.  L.  helped  Arthur  to  a  large  plate 
full.  But  just  as  he  was  taking  up  his  knife  and 
fork,  his  father  took  up  a  large  bowl  that  stood  by 
his  plate,  and  turned  it  over  Arthur's  dinner.  At 
first  he  looked  in  surprise,  but  he  immediately  un- 
derstood it.  He  was  very  hungry,  but  he  did  not 
dare  to  remove  the  bowl.  The  rest  of  the  family 
began  to  eat,  but  he  sat  looking  very  red  and  un- 
happy. At  length  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  "  I  never  will  put  the  -peck 
measure  over  the  cow's  dinner  again,  and  I'll  never 
turn  sissy  into  the  snow  again,  if  you'll  let  me  eat 
my  dinner." 

"  Very  well,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  L.,  removing  the 
bowl  ;  "  you  find  practical  jokes  are  not  very  pleas- 
ant when  played  upon  yourself.  Always  remember 
that  if  you  would  be  loved  and  respected,  you  must 
do  by  others  as  you  wish  others  to  do  by  you." 


PEOSE     AND     POETRY.  97 


THE   SUNBEAM'S   MISSION. 

A  GENTLE  sunbeam  lost  his  way, 
In  a  lonely  glen  one  day, 
And  rested  on  a  little  child, 
Whose  face  was  fair,  whose  eyes  were  dim 
With  tears  that  fell  unchecked  by  him. 
And  now  he  speaks  in  accents  wild, 
Why  am  I  but  an  orphan  child  ? 
There  once  was  one  who  cared  for  me, 
But  now  she  sleeps  beneath  the  tree 
A  victim  to  earth's  villainy ! 
But  the  sunbeam  kisses  his  brow  ; 
And  a  smile  is  on  his  fair  face  now. 
With  face  upturned  he  breathes  a  prayer 
That  God  will  for  the  orphan  care. 
And  now  he  leaves  that  lonely  spot, 
All  care  is  o'er,  all  fear  forgot, 
For  now  he  trusts  the  orphan's  friend, 
Whose  love  and  care  can  never  end. 
But  years  have  flown  on  eagle's  wings, 
And  that  boy  to  God  still  clings  ; 
And  what's  the  fruit  of  all  his  trust  ? 
And  has  his  hopes  been  turned  to  dust  ? 
Oh  !  no,  for  as  a  man  he  stands 
Rich  and  honored  by  the  land  ; 
And  in  the  busy  scene  of  life, 
Where  nought  is  going  on  but  strife, 
We  see  that  man  stand  side  by  side 
With  those  who  are  the  country's  pride. 


98  MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 


KINDNESS. 

K  A  WORD  fitly  spoken,  how  good  is  it  1"  It  may 
JLA.  for  a  moment  be  covered  up  by  the  rubbish  of 
worldly  care,  even  as  the  acorn  is  by  the  "  dark, 
damp  mould  ;"  but  by-and-by  there  will  be  a  dis- 
turbing of  the  leaves,  and  a  slender  green  sprig  will 
spring  up  "  to  the  sunshine  and  the  dew."  So  with 
kindness  ;  it  is  never  lost.  Even  the  untutored 
mind  of  the  savage  never  forgets  the  cup  of  cold 
water  given  him  when  in  distress. 

Be  kind  !  My  young  friend,  give  these  words 
deep  tracing  on  your  heart's  tablet,  and  let  them  be 
ever  present  with  you.  Harsh  words  fall  grating 
on  the  ear,  are  poisonous  to  the  heart,  and  rankle 
long  after  the  utterer  has  forgotten  them.  Even  as 
old  letters,  when  least  thought  of,  arise  and  add 
fearfully  to  the  scale  in  which  the  actions  of  the 
past  are  to  be  weighed,  so  unkind  words  will  in- 
stigate and  urge  onward  to  revenge.  When  you 
are  most  in  need  of  sympathy  from  those  you  have 
injured,  it  will  be  withheld  :  the  fire  of  your  anguish 
will  be  to  the  mirror  of  memory  what  heat  is  to  the 
sheet  on  which  th oughts  have  been  traced  in  that 
peculiar  ink  which  needs  fire  to  bring  it  out  to  the 
sight ;  your  character  will  be  revealed  in  its  true 
light,  your  standing  on  its  true  basis. 

The  young  should  be  kind  to  the  aged  !  God 
commands  it,  conscience  reiterates  the  demand,  and, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  99 

the  principle  of  respect  inherent  in  the  bosom  of 
every  mortal,  urges  a  compliance  ;  likewise  the 
thought  that  in  after  years  the  now  joyous  youth 
may  be  subjected  to  the  same  treatment  by  those 
who  have  no  regard  for  gray  hairs,  add  its  weight 
in  furtherance  of  the  command.  "  Honor  thy  father 
and  thy  mother  "  is  applicable  to  all  classes  ;  the 
amplitude  to  this  commandment,  it  appears  to  us, 
has  no  latitude  shorter  than  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

"  Brightest  links  in  life  are  broken 
By  a  single  angry- word  ;" 

and  a  vapor,  deadly  as  the  air  of  the  eastern  valley, 
will  enshroud  in  its  folds  a  circle  once  bound  by  the 
sweetest  and  tenderest  ties,  but  now,  by  discordant 
words  and  harsh  expressions,  made  rancorous  and 
thirsty  for  revenge. 

In  heaven  there  is  no  discord.  How,  then,  can 
you  expect  an  entrance  into  that  holy  place  when 
your  very  presence  would  defile  it  ? 

The  air  of  Pandemonium  rings  with  wailing  and 
bitter  reproaches.  This,  and  this  only,  is  the  fitting 
and  will  be  the  eternal  abode  of  those  who  scruple 
not  on  earth  to  destroy  unity  and  sever  the  tender, 
vibrating  chord  of  love  by  harshness  and  unkind 
tones. 

"  Follow  me/'  said  the  Holy  One  when  on  earth  ; 
and  as  he  was  "  holy,  harmless,  and  undefiled,"  so 
we  should  follow  him  in  this  as  in  other  respects. 
He  went  about  "  doing  good/7  and  though  <;  reviled, 


100  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

"ae  reviled  net  again."  Such  is  the  example  we 
have  to  follow.  Shall  we  fail  ?  Oh  no  1  Let  our 
actions  ever  be  kindly  ones,  and  even  "  as  holy  oil " 
Dur  conversation  :  "  so  shall  we  not  fail  of  our 
reward." 


THE   SIEGE  OF   BELGRADE. 

AN  Austrian  Army,  Awfully  Arrayed, 

Boldly  By  Battery  Besieged  Belgrade  ; 

Cossack  Commanders  Cannonading  Come, 

Dealing  Destruction's  Devastating  Doom  ; 

Every  Endeavor  Engineers  Essay, 

For  Fame,  For  Fortune  Fighting — Furious  Fray  ; 

Generals  'Gainst  Generals  Grapple — Gracious  God  ! 

How  Honors  Heav'n  Heroic  Hardihood  ! 

Infuriate,  Indiscriminate,  In  111, 

Kinsmen  Kill  Kindred,  Kindred  Kinsmen  Kill ! 

Labor  Low  Levels  Longest,  Loftiest  lines : 

Men  March  'Mid  Mounds,  'Mid  Moles,  Mid  Murd'rous  Mines  ; 

Now  Noisy,  Noxious  Numbers  Now  Naught 

Of  Outward  Obstacles  Opposing  Ought ; 

Poor  Patriots  !  Partly  Purchas'd,  Partly  Press'd, 

Quite  Quaking,  Quickly  "  Quarter,  Quarter,"  Quest, 

Reason  Returns,  Religious  Rights  Redounds, 

Suwarrow  Stops  Such  Sanguinary  Sounds  ; 

Truce  To  Thee,  Turkey  !  Triumph  To  Thy  Train  ! 

Unjust,  Unwise,  Unmerciful  Ukraine  ! 

Vanish  Yain  Victory  ! — Vanish  Victory  Vain  1 

Why  Wish  we  Warfare  ?    Wherefore  Welcome  Were 

Xerxes,  Ximenes,  Xanthus,  Xavier  ? 

Yield,  Yield,  Ye  Youths  !  Ye  Yoeman,  Yield  You  YeU  I 

Zeno's  Zarpater's  Zoroaster's  Zeal ; 

Attracting  All  Arms,  Against  Acts  Appeal. 


PEOSE     AND     POETRY 


101 


APRIL. 

APRIL  is  a  fitful  child, 

Full  of  wayward  fancies 
Laughing,  weeping,  sober  wild, 
Sunny,  showery,  frantic,  mild — 
Anything  that  chances. 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

April  is  a  fickle  fool, 

Knowing  not  his  season  ; 
Like  a  truant  out  of  school. 
Out  of  temper,  out  of  rule, 
Out  of  rhyme  and  reason. 

April  is  a  mere  coquette, 
Ill-behaved  in  meeting ; 
Warm  and  cool,  and  dry  and  wet, 
Apt  to  tantalize  and  fret — 
Yery  fond  of  cheating. 

April  is  a  faithless  youth, 

Speaks  but  to  undo  it  ; 

Like  a  broken  limb,  or  tooth, 

Trust  his  honor  or  his  truth, 

And  you'll  surely  rue  it. 

April  is  an  arrant  wag, 

Full  of  idle  humors ; 
Apt  to  grumble,  apt  to  brag, 
Sure  to  give  your  hopes  the  bag. 

Ere  they  come  to' bloomers. 

April  will  not  tend  your  sheep, 

He  will  kill  or  lose  them  ; 
Give  him  what  you  will  to  keep, 
He  will  wake  and  he  will  sleep 
Only  to  abuse  them. 

What  is  like  an  April  day, 

Save  a  broken  promise  ? 
When  he  sweeps  the  clouds  away, 
Smiling  softly — who  can  say 

What  of  that  to  come  is  ? 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  103 


GUESS   WHAT! 

HIKE  snow-clouds  in  the  blue  sea  of  heaven  had 
JL  sailed  softly  out  of  sight,  and  the  virgin  flakes 
had  sunk  into  the  earth.  So  Mr.  E.  hastened  his 
preparations,  and  was  soon  on  his  way  to  another 
State.  As  he  expected  to  be  absent  several  days, 
the  house  seemed  duller  in  the  sunshine  than  a  few 
hours  before,  when  a  aiorm  was  apparently  gather- 
ing. The  prospect  was  rather  gloomier  than  usual, 
because  the  children  were  suffering  from  colds,  and 
were  for  the  time  household  prisoners.  But,  what 
with  reading,  winding  yarn,  swinging  in  the  play- 
room, and  chatting,  that  day  and  the  next  at  length 
came  to  an  end. 

It  was  early  dusk,  when  a  startling  knock  was 
heard  at  the  front  door.  "  Why  don't  he  ring  the 
bell  ?"  As  nobody  answered,  no  one  was  wiser  for 
the  question.  Again  that  knock  !  The  children's 
curiosity  is  fairly  aroused,  and  they  listen  attentive- 
ly. Soon  Bridget  Ascends  the  stairs,  bringing  a 
nice-looking  oblong  parcel.  Taking  it  from  her, 
Mrs.  E.  finds  it  directed  to  herself,  in  an  unknown 
hand.  "  By  Paine's  express,"  reads  Louisa  alond, 
peering  curiously  around  the  package.  "  What  can 
it  be  ?"  exclaims  the  wondering  Ally.  "  Glass 
within/'  "  With  care,"  is  next  discovered  upon  the 
wrapper.  The  children  are  on  tiptoe  with  expecta- 


104  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

tion.  It  is  eridcntly  a  superfine  parcel  from  the 
city,  done  up  with  great  care,  and  forwarded  with 
some  urgency.  Now,  as  nothing  had  been  ordered 
nothing,  of  course,  was  expected.  Then  there  was 
Aio  clue  from  whom  it  came,  or  what  it  might 
contain.  To  be  sure,  "  Glass  within  ''  seemed  defi- 
nite enough  ;  but  then,  what  kind  of  glass  ?  Here 
was  a  broad  field  for  speculation.  Was  it  rose  or 
sapphire  color  ?  was  it  crimson  or  topaz,  emeraltf  or 
variegated  ?  Was  it  in  the  form  of  an  antique  vase, 
a  graceful  pitcher,  a  classic  urn,  a  curious  box,  or 
something  prettier  and  more  wonderful  still?  In 
short,  what  was  it  ?  By  this  time,  the  children's 
imaginations  were  winged  for  an  airy  height. 
Louise,  who  is  given  to  castle-building,  suggested 
all  sorts  of  improbable,  Aladdin-like  marvels.  Ally, 
who  is  more  practical,  made  rather  more  substantial 
guesses,  which  were  fanciful  enough. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  parcel,  as  to  its  externals, 
had  been  thoroughly  examined  and  re-examined. 
"  What  do  you  think  it  is,  mother  ?"  Mrs.  E.  had 
no  possible  data  for  determining  aught  but  the  size 
and  material  of  the  enveloped  mystery  :  but  in  order 
to  take  down  the  children's  high  anticipations,  she 
quietly  ventured,  "  A  bottle  of  medicine,"  heartily 
joining  in  the  merry  laugh  her  absurd  guess  excited. 

To  unloose  the  mysterious  parcel  was  the  only 
way  to  satisfy  all  parties.  This  Louisa  petitioned 
to  do  ;  but  her  mother,  fearing  that  in  her  tremu- 
lous excitement  she  might  break  or  otherwise  injure 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  105 

the  frail  unknown,  thought  it  safest  to  do  it  herself. 
She  had  early  learned  a  lesson  from  that  admirable 
story,  "  Waste  not,  want  not/'  and  almost  never  cut 
a  string.  So  she  cautiously  began  to  untie  and  un- 
wind. Knot  seemed  to  multiply  after  knot,  and 
winding  to  double  after  winding.  Patiently  her 
fingers  toiled,  and  slowly  the  twine  was  untied  and 
unwound,  and  straightened,  while  three  pairs  of 
eyes  were  steadily  watching  the  process.  At  length 
the  string  was  fairly  off,  and  laid  aside.  Then  the 
brown  paper  was  carefully  removed  ;  but  lo ! 
another  covering !  With  how  much  painstaking 
had  the  treasure  been  inclosed  !  The  second  wrap- 
per in  its  turn  was  removed  ;  but  still  a  third 
guarded  the  contents.  So  the  six  eyes  watched  on, 
till  the  talked  about,  longed-for  mystery  stood 
revealed  to  their  wondering  gaze.  And  what  do 
you  guess  was  the  great  secret  ?  Will  you  give  up  ? 
Well,  then,  it  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a — 
bottle  of  "  Brown's  Marsh  Mallow,"  "  for  the  cure  of 
colds,  coughs,  consumptions,  bronchial  difficulties,'' 
and  all  like  et  cetera — which  a  careful  father  had 
purchased,  and  left  to  be  directed  and  forwarded, 
little  dreaming  of  the  wild  speculations  to  which  it 
would  give  birth,  and  of  the  blank  dissapoiritment 
which  would  ensue.  Shall  I  pin  a  moral  to  the  end 
of  my  story  ?  Be  moderate  in  your  expectations, 
and  you  will  be  spared  many  a  disappointment. 


106 


MERRYS     GEMS     OF 


WINTER. 

POOR^old  hoary  winter!  How  bitterly  every 
body  complains  of  him,  and  yet  Low  much  real 
fun  he  brings.  See  this  old  man,  almost  freezing 
with  the  coldr  hugging  his  hands,  to  keep  them 
warm,  and  wading,  almost  to  the  top  of  his  boots,  in 
the  wet  snow.  He  grumbles  sadly  at  old  Winter, 
and  wishes  he  would  take  himself  off,  as  suddenly 
as  he  came.  He  does  not  seem  to  know  how  he 
shall  get  along,  but  he  cannot  stop,  or  turn  back, 
and  the  only  way  to  keep  warm,  is  to  keep  moving. 
It  is  my  opinion  that,  if  lie  had  taken  nothing  but 
cold  water  inside,  the  cold  water  and  snow  outside 
would  not  make  him  feel  so  uncomfortable.  Let  us 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  107 

follow  him  a  little  way,  and  see  how  he  gets  along, 
and  how  much  good  his  grumbling  does  him. 

His  little  dog  is  ever  at  his  heels,  and  seems  not 
to  be  in  any  great  trouble  about  the  snow.  He 
skims  over  it  very  easily.  He,  too,  stopped  at  the 
tavern,  as  they  came  along,  but  he  drank  nothing 
but  water.  That  is  one  reason  why  he  is  so  frisky. 
There,  the  man  has  turned  the  corner,  and  looks 
wistfully  ahead,  to  see  if  there  is  any  comfort  in  the 
prospect.  It  looks  gloomy  to  him,  but  to  those 
boys  yonder,  coasting  down  the  hill,  on  their 
smooth-shod  cutters,  it  is  all  bright,  cheerful,  glori- 
ous. He  thinks  how  happy  he  was  once,  when  as  a 
boy,  he  revelled  in  the  snow,  and  flew  over  the  ice 
on  his  iron  shoes.  He  wonders  that  a  few  years  of 
time  should  make  such  a  difference.  He  forgets 
that  some  men,  older  than  he,  are  boys  yet,  and 
would  take  as  much  pleasure  as  any  of  them,  in 
coasting,  skating,  or  sleigh  -  riding.  He  dreads 
water,  outside  or  inside,  and  the  more  "  fire-water  " 
he  takes  inside,  the  more  he  finds  it  necessary  to 
hug  the  stove,  to  keep  his  outer  man  warm.  Well, 
I  am  sorry  for  him,  and  wish  he  would  try  the 
"  pledge,"  and  keep  it.  The  pledge,  well  kept,  is 
as  good  as  a  blanket,  or  a  stove,  to  keep  one  warm. 
The  pledge,  well  kept,  is.  a  warm  coat,  a  comfortable 
house,  a  cheerful  heart  and  home — a  fortune  that 
cannot  be  lost.  Try  it,  boys.  Try  it,  men.  Try 
it,  women  and  girls.  And  if  it  don't  turn  out  so, 
then  I  am  much  mistaken. 


108  MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 


THE   HYACINTH. 

EMILY  was  grieved  because  the  winter  lasted  so 
long  ;  for  she  was  fond  of  flowers,  and  had  a 
little  garden,  in  which  she  raised  some  very  beauti- 
ful ones,  tending  them  with  her  own  hands.  There- 
fore she  was  very  anxious  that  the  winter  might 
pass  away,  and  the  pleasant  spring  return. 

11  Look,  Emily  !"  said  her  father,  "  I  have  brought 
thee  a  flower-root,  a  bulb,  but  thou  must  cultivate 
it  thyself  with  care." 

"  How  can  I,  father  ?"  replied  the  maiden. 
"  Every  thing  is  covered  with  snow,  and  the  earth 
is  as  hard  as  a  stone." 

Thus  she  spoke,  for  she  did  not  know  that  flowers 
might  be  reared  in  vases.  But  her  father  gave  her 
a  vase  filled  with  earth,  and  Emily  placed  the  bulbs 
therein.  She  looked,  however,  at  her  father  and 
smiled,  doubtful  whether  he  was  in  earnest  in  what 
he  had  said  ;  for  she  imagined  that  flowers  could 
not  thrive  unless  they  had  the  blue  sky  above  their 
heads,  and  the  mild  breezes  of  spring  about  them. 

In  a  few  days  the  earth  in  the  vase  was  raised, 
and  green  leaves  sprouted  forth.  Emily  was  over- 
joyed, and  she  ran  and  told  her  father,  her  mother, 
and  the  whole  household,  of  the  growth  of  the 
young  plant. 

"  How  little  is  requisite/'  said  her  mother,  "  to 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  109 

rejoice  the  heart,  while  it  is  still  innocent  and  true 
to  nature !" 

Emily  then  sprinkled  •  the  plant  with  water,  and 
smiled  complacently  upon  it. 

Her  father  observed  her,  and  said  :  "  That  is 
right,  my  child.  Rain  and  dew  must  be  succeeded 
by  sunshine.  The  beam  of  the  benevolent  eye  giv- 
eth  value  to  the  bounty  which  the  hand  dispenses. 
Thy  plant  will  be  sure  to  thrive,  Emily." 

The  leaves  soon  appeared  entirely  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  and  were  -of  a  beautiful  green. 
Emily's  joy  was  greater  than  ever.  "  Oh  I"  she  ex- 
claimed with  an  overflowing  heart  :  "  I  shall  be 
content,  though  it  should  not  produce  a  single 
flower  I" 

"  More  will  be  given  to  thee."  said  her  father, 
"  than  thou  darest  hope  for.  This  is  the  reward  of 
moderation,  and  of  a  heart  that  is  content  with  lit- 
tle." He  now  showed  her  the  germ  of  the  flower, 
which  lay  hidden  between  the  leaves. 

Emily's  care  and  attention  increased  every  day, 
as  the  blossom  gradually  unfolded  itself.  With  deli- 
cate hand  she  sprinkled  it  with  water,  and  when  a 
gleam  of  sunshine  broke  from  the  clouds,  she  car- 
ried the  vase  to  the  window,  and  her  breath,  light 
as  the  morning  breeze  that  plays  about  the  rose, 
blew  away  the  dust  that  had  settled  upon  the 
leaves. 

"  How  sweet  is  the  union  of  love  and  innocence 1" 
said  her  mother. 


110  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

Emily's  thoughts  were  occupied  with  her  flower, 
until  she  fell  asleep  at  night,  and  as  soon  as  she 
awoke  in  the  morning.  Often,  too,  in  her  dreams, 
she  beheld  her  hyacinth  in  full  blossom,  and  when, 
in  the  morning,  she  found  that  it  was  not  yet  unfold- 
ed, she  was  not  troubled,  but  said  with  a  smile,  "  I 
must  have  patience  a  little  longer." 

Sometimes  she  would  ask  her  father  whether  the 
flower  would  be  of  this  or  that  color,  and  when  she 
had  enumerated  all  the  colors,  she  would  say  cheer- 
fully, "  But  it  is  all  one  to  me,  so  it  do  but  blos- 
som 1" 

At  length  the  blossom  appeared.  Early  one 
morning  twelve  little  bells  were  found  expanded. 
They  hung  down  in  the  full  bloom  of  youthful  beau- 
ty, between  five  broad  leaTes  of  emerald  green. 
Their  color  was  a  pale  red,  like  the  rays  of  the 
glowing  morn,  or  the  delicate  flush  on  Emily's 
cheek.  The  flower  diffused  around  a  fragrant  odor. 
It  was  a  bright  morning  in  the  month  of  March. 

Emily's  joy  was  calm  and  silent,  as  she  bent  over 
the  flower,  and  gazed  upon  it.  Her  father  ap- 
proached, looked  at  his  beloved  child  and  at  the 
hyacinth,  and  said  :  "  Behold,  Emily,  what  the  hya- 
cinth is  to  thoc,  that  art  thou  to  us  P 

The  maid  on  sprang  up,  threw  herself  into  her 
father's  arms,  and,  after  a  long  embrace,  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice  :  "  Dear  father !  oh,  that  I  could  re- 
joice your  heart  as  you  have  rejoiced  mine  1" 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


Ill 


ONLY  WARING. 

ONLY  waiting,  till  the  shadows 
Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 

Only  waiting,  till  the  glimmer 
Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  flown  ; 

fill  the  night  of  earth  is  faded, 
From  the  heart  once  full  of  day  ; 


112  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

Till  the  stars  of  heaven  are  breaking 
Through  the  twilight  soft  and  grey. 

Only  waiting,  till  the  reapers 

Have  the  last  sheaf  gathered  home  ; 
For  the  summer  time  is  faded, 

And  the  autumn's  winds  have  come, 
Quickly,  reapers,  gather  quickly 

The  last  ripe  hours  of  my  heart, 
For  the  bloom  of  life  is  withered, 

And  I  hasten  to  depart. 

Only  waiting,  till  the  angels 

Open  wide  the  mystic  gate, 
At  whose  feet  I  long  have  lingered, 

Weary,  poor,  and  desolate. 
Even  now,  I  hear  the  footsteps, 

And  their  voices  far  away  ; 
If  they  call  me,  I  am  waiting, 

Only  waiting  to  obey, 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows 

Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 
Only  waiting,  till  tjie  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  is  flown  ; 
Then  from  out  the  gathered  darkness, 

Holy,  deathless  stars  shall  rise, 
By  whose  light  my  soul  shall  gladly 

Tread  its  pathway  to  the  skies. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  113 


YOUNG   MEN. 

idea  is  prevalent  in  some  communities,  that 
JL  the  young  men  are  unfit  for  generals  or  states- 
men, and  that  they  must  be  kept  in  the  backgrouud 
until  their  physical  strength  is  impaired  by  age,  and 
their  intellectual  faculties  blunted  by  years.  Let  us 
look  at  the  history  of  the  past,  and  from  the  long 
list  of  heroes  and  statesmen  who  have  nobly  dis- 
tinguished themselves,  we  will  find  that  they  were 
young  men  who  performed  those  acts  which  have 
won  for  th'em  an  imperishable  meed  of  fame,  and 
which  placed  their  names  on  the  page  of  lajstory. 
Alexander,  the  conqueror  of  the  whole  civilized 
world,  viz.  Greece,  Egypt,  and  Asia,  died  at  33. 
Bonaparte  was  crowned  Emperor  of  France  when 
33  years  of  age.  Pitt,  the  younger  brother,  was 
33  years  of  age,  when  in  Britain's  Parliament  he 
boldly  advocated  the  cause  of  the  American  Colo- 
nies ;  and  but  22  when  made  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer.  Edmund  Burke,  at  the  age  of  25,  was 
the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  Our  own  Wash- 
ington was  but  25  when  he  covered  the  retreat  of 
the  British  at  Braddock's  defeat,  and  was  appointed 
to  be  commander-in  chief  of  all  the  Virginia  forces. 
Alexander  Hamilton,  at  20,  was  a  Lieutenant  Col- 
onel and  aid  to  Washington  ;  at  25,  a  member  of 
Congress,  and  at  32,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 
Thomas  Jefferson  was  but  23  when  he  drafted  the 


114  MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 

ever-memorable  Declaration  of  Independence.  At 
the  age  of  30  years,  Sir  Isaac  Newton  occupied  the 
mechanical  chair  at  Cambridge  College,  England, 
having  by  his  scientific  discoveries  rendered  his 
name  immortal. 


ECHO  ANSWERING. 

f f  TTFHAT  must  be  done  to  conduct  a  newspaper 
VV  right?"— "  write." 

"  Speaking  of  the  Eastern  war,  one  asked  what 
will  be  the  expence  ?'' — "  pence." 

"  What's  necessary  for  a  farmer  to  assist  him  ?" — 
"  system." 

"  What  would  give  a  blind  man  the  greatest  de- 
light ?»— "  light." 

"  What's  the  best  counsel  given  by  a  justice  of 
the  peace  ?" — "  peace." 

"Who  commits  the  greatest  abominations?" — 
"  nations." 

"  What  cry  is  the  great  terrifier  ?"— "  fire." 

"  What  are  some  women's  chief  exercise  V — 
11  sighs." 

"  Who  is  more  beautiful  than  she  ?  I  demand  an 
answer." — "  Ann,  sir." 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  115 


CHICKENS. 

LITTLE  Jeannie's  little  chickens, 
Hear  them  pe-ep,  pe-ep,  peep ! 

Little  fingers  bring  their  dinner ; 
Now  they  have  a  golden  heap. 

In  her  plump  and  dimpled  fingers 
Jeannie  takes  the  downy  thing, 

Laughs  to  see  him  fear,  and  flutter 
Such  a  funny  "make-believe"  wing. 

"  Pretty  chick,  I'll  never  hurt  you  ; 
See,  I  bring  you  meal  so  nice ; " 
But  the  chick  would  hear  no  further — 
Off  he  scampered  in  a  trice. 


THE  WAY  TO  DO  IT. 

As  step  by  step,  the  hill  we  mount, 
As,  one  by  one,  we  learn  to  count, 
So,  word  by  word,  we  learn  to  spell, 
And,  line  by  line,  to  reading  well. 


116  MER  L'w  7S     GEMS    OF 


TOBACCO. 

WHAT  think  you  a  lad  of  sixteen  said  to  us  late- 
ly, when  we  remonstrated  with  him  upon  the 
base  indulgence  ot  tobacco  ? 

"  I  don't  smoke  because  I  love  it,  but  because  it's  a 
habit  I  cant  overcome." 

It  was  at  the  same  time  a  very  sad  and  a  very 
laughable  excuse.  Can't  overcome  it — a  boy — can't 
overcome  the  filthy  habit  of  smoking  cigars,  and 
chewing  filthy  tobacco  ;  would  rather  deny  himself 
the  pleasure  of  decent  company  ;  rather  possess  a 
breath  filled  with  the  odor  of  corruption,  than  give 
up  the  pleasure  of  sucking  at  one  of  the  most  nau- 
seous compounds  that  man,  in  his  foolishness  ever 
concocted. 

We  pity  that  boy — we  pity  anybody  who  has  not 
sufficient  resolution  to  cast  off  a  habit  that  he 
acknowledges  is  hourly  committing  ravages  upon 
his  health  ;  who  suffers  in  numerous  ways  ;  who 
loses  self-respect,  allows  his  teeth  to  accumulate 
offensive  matter  ;  lounges  in  ungraceful  postures  ; 
obliges  every  one  to  open  the  windows  wherever  he 
goes,  his  own  olfactory  organs  being  deadened  by 
the  constant  effluvia,  so  that  he  is  not  awara  how 
great  a  nuisance  he  is  ;  gives  up  all  refinement — for 
who  ever  saw  refinement  in  the  midst  of  a  puffing, 
lolling,  spitting  circle  ?  Who  ever  saw  refinement 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  117 

in  the  low  bar-room,  the  street-corner  loungers,  the 
mean,  vile  denizens  of  the  most  infamous  haunts? 

But  what  shall  we  do,  when  infants  use  the 
destructive  agent — infants  of  six  and  seven  years, 
some  of  whom  smoke  manfully,  if  that  word  pleases 
the  grown-up  sucklings  ? 

Not  long  ago,  a  little  boy,  not  seven  years  old, 
came  into  the  house  where  we  were  staying,  stupid 
and  sick,  reeling  unsteadily,  and  fell,  almost  sense- 
less, upon  the  floor,  causing  great  panic,  as  may  be 
supposed.  We  found  out  the  cause  in  a  few 
moments.  Another  little  boy,  somewhat  older,  had 
coaxed  him  to  smoke  a  few  puffs  on  an  old  cigar,  and 
the  alarming  symptoms  of  poison  were  the  result  of 
his  first  effort.  Thus  even  babes  are  teaching  one 
another,  and  it  behooves  parents  to  be  on  the 
watch,  to  guard  these  poor  innocents  from  a  habit 
that  too  often  leads  to  infamy — that  infamy  cherish- 
es as  one  of  her  most  darling  sins. 


READING.  —  Always  have  a  book  within  your 
reach,  which  you  may  catch  up  at  any  odd  minutes. 
Resolve  to  edge  in  a  little  reading  every  day,  if  it 
is  but  a  single  sentence.  If  you  can  give  fifteen 
minutes  a  day,  it  will  be  felt  at  the  end  of  the  year. 
Thoughts  take  up  no  room.  When  they  are  right, 
they  afford  a  portable  pleasure,  which  one  may 
travel  or  labor  with,  without  any  trouble  or  incum- 
brance. 


118 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


JUST  TOO   LATE. 

SEE  that  poor  old  man,  with  his  valise  and 
umbrella,  hallooing  after  the  stage  coach  with 
all  his  might,  while  it  passes  quietly  on  its  way. 
He  is  just  too  Jate.  If  he  had  been  one  minute 
earlier  he  would  have  been  in  season,  and  would 
hare  been  saved  from  a  world  of  vexation  and  dis- 
appointment that  now  disturb  his  mind. 

His  name  is  Benjamin  Bailey,  an  easy,  inactive 
old  man,  who  loves  to  tell  stories  and  entertain  his 
friends,  and  who  never  seems  to  have  any  clear 
conception  that  time  is  passing,  or  that  it  is  any 
later  now  than  it  was  six  hours  ago. 

He  is  late  to  bed  and  late  to  rise,  late  to  break- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  119 

fast  and  late  to  work.  On  Sunday  he  is  late  to 
church,  and  if  he  has  an  appointment  he  is  sure  to 
be  half  an  hour  behind  the  time. 

Rumor  says  says  that  when  he  was  going  to  a  dis- 
tant state  to  be  married  he  was  two  weeks  in  get- 
ting off,  because  he  could  not  on  any  day  get  to  the 
boat  in  season  to  start. 

He  has  now  packed  his  valise  and  is  starting 
on  a  journey  to  transact  very  important  business, 
and  business  requiring  the  utmost  haste. 

It  seems  that  he  has  been  engaged  in  a  vexatious 
law  suit,  which  has  been  carried  up  to  its  last  ap- 
peal, and  is  about  to  be  decided  against  him.  He 
has  just  come  in  possession  of  important  facts  that 
might  turn  the  case  and  save  him  from  bankruptcy 
and  ruin. 

But  there  goes  the  stage  and  he  is  left  behind, 
and  cannot  now,  by  any  possible  means,  arrive  in 
time  to  save  the  case. 

Poor  old  man  !  all  his  raised  hopes  are  dashed — 
He  has  lost  his  case,  and  lost  his  earthly  all.  How 
his  heart  throbs  with  un vailing  regrets  !  How  he 
wishes  he  had  heeded  the  advice  of  his  friends,  who 
would  have  hurried  his  departure.  But  it  is  such 
an  old  habit  with  him  to  go  close  on  time,  that  he 
would  really  be  unhappy  if  he  were  by  some  chance 
to  be  five  minutes  too  early.  He  has  a  sort  of  pride 
in  delaying  till  the  last  moment  and  then  barely 
escaping  by  a  hair's  breadth.  But  this  foolish  pride 
has  cost  him  a  great  many  disappointments  and  loss- 


120  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

es,  and  has  all  his  life  long  been  his  ruling  star  of  evil. 

The  simple  and  beautiful  habit  of  punctuality, 
formed  when  he  was  young  and  cherished  through 
life,  would  have  saved  him  and  his  family  a  world 
of  trouble.  But  he  is  too  old  to  be  changed  now, 
or  to  be  effectually  taught  even  by  the  bitter  les- 
sons of  experience.  His  friends  have  long  since 
abandoned  the  hope  of  any  change.  When  one  has 
arrived  at  his  period  of  life  he  does  not  often  throw 
off  or  essentially  modify  his  old  habits  ;  they  have 
become  a  part  of  himself,  and  will  cling  to  him  till 
he  rests  in  his  grave. 

How  important,  then,  that  the  habits  which  we 
form  in  youth  be  such  as  we  would  wish  to  cherish 
in  mature  years — that  they  be  such  as  will  adorn 
and  not  mar  our  character. 

Look  again  at  that  toiling  and  unhappy  old  man 
in  the  picture — his  hat  has  blown  off,  and  his  head 
is  bared  to  the  breeze,  while  his  heart  is  throbbing 
with  disappointment  and  sorrow.  While  you  feel 
a  pity  for  his  misfortune,  learn,  before  your  habits 
are  unalterably  fixed,  to  be  punctual  at  all  times. 
The  habit,  once  formed,  will  have  more  to  do  than 
I  can  now  tell  or  you  can  understand  in  shaping  and 
perfecting  .your  whole  character.  It  will  be  worth 
more  to  you  than  an  inherited  fortune  in  stocks  and 
acres,  because  it  will  be  an  element  of  real  wealth 
within.  Good  habits,  like  the  acquisitions  of  the 
mind,  enrich  the  possessor  with  a  real  wealth,  which 
is,  and  r  will  be,  his  own,  because  a  part  of  him- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  121 


POSITIVE  AND   COMPARATIVE. 

THERE  are  lines  written,  simple  and  strange, 
Tragic,  comic,  pathetic,  and  narrative, 

So  I'll  now  turn  my  hand  for  a  change 
To  a  positive  and  comparative. 

The  first  English  letter  is  A, 
We  none  of  us  live  without  air, 

The  prettiest  month  is  called  May, 
But  the  head  of  our  city's  a  mayor. 

A  knock  at  the  door  is  a  rap, 

An  over-all  coat  is  a  wrapper, 
A  belt  made  of  leather's  a  strap, 

But  a  girl  of  six  feet  is  a  strapper  ! 

The  first  rule  in  sums  is  to  add, 

A  venemous  snake  is  an  adder, 
A  boy  of  sixteen  is  a  lad 

But  a  lamplighter's  help  is  his  ladder, 

An  apartment  is  also  a  room, 

A  doubtful  report  is  a  rumor, 
The  blossoms  of  trees  are  their  bloom, 

A  short  reign  had  poor  Mrs.  Bloomer  ! 

The  end  of  the  day  is  called  night, 
A  drug  of  great  virtue  is  nitre, 

A  very  small  insect's  a  mite, 
But  a  clergyman's  hope  is  a  mitre. 

A  cutter  has  only  one  mast, 

The  ruler  of  Pembroke's  "  the  Master, 
The  Great  Exhibition  is  past, 

Bttt  a  sheph'erd  is  also  a  pastor. 


122  MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 

The  fame  of  Old  England  is  great, 
A  scraper  for  spice  is  a  grater, 

A  manner  of  walking  is  a  gait 
But  an  over-all  trowser's  a  gaiter. 

To  incline  any  way  is  to  tend, 
A  five-year's  old  fowl  isn't  tender, 

I'll  give  you  one  more  for  the  end, 
Saul  called  on  the  old  witch  of  Endor. 


LIFE. 

"We  are  born — we  laugh — we  weep — 
•W"e  I0ve — we  droop — we  die ! 

Ah !  wherefore  do  we  laugh,  or  weep  ? 
Why  do  we  live,  or  die  ? 

Who  knows  that  secret  deep  ? 
Alas !  not  I. 

Why  doth  the  violet  spring 

Unseen  by  human  eye  ? 
Why  doth  the  radiant  seasons  bring 

Sweet  thoughts  that  quickly  fly  ? 
Why  do  our  fond  hearts  cling 

To  things  that  die  ? 

We  toil,  through  pain  and  wrong— 

We  fight— and  fly  ? 
We  love — we  lose — and  then,  ere  long. 

Cold  and  dead  we  lie  ! 
0  life !  is  all  thy  song 

"  Endure  and—die  1 " 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  123 

HOPS  AND   BEANS; 

THE   WAY   THEIR  VINES   RUN. 

TVTOT  more  than  two  in  a  hundred,  I  am  sure,  have 
JLM  well  learned  the  art  of  seeing.  I  doubt  wheth- 
er many  people  know  that  there  is  such  an  art. 
They  overlook  the  most  interesting  facts,  they  don't 
see  things  right  before  them.  "We  may  refer  to  the 
vines  of  their  gardens.  They  walk  among  them 
daily,  without  so  much  as  suspecting  that  some  of 
them  are  very  particular  as  to  the  way  they  run. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understand  you,  sir.  It 
sounds  rather  queer,  that  vines  are  particular  which 
way  they  run.  I  always  thought  that  they  creep 
about  in  any  direction,  just  where  there  is  the  mos-t 
room,  or  the  best  chance  to  lay  hold  of  a  support." 

You  talk,  John,  pretty  much  as  I  expected.  It  is 
true  that  those  vines  which  keep  to  the  ground,  seem 
satisfied  to  run  to  any  one  of  a  hundred  points  of  the 
compass.  It  is  true,  also,  that  those  which  have  an 
upward  tendency,  are  apt  to  cling  to  whatever  is 
most  convenient.  Still,  they  are  very  nice  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  they  lay  hold  of  their  supports,  and 
coil  themselves  around  them.  You  needn't  go  far 
for  the  proof  of  this. 

Here  are  some  hop-vines.  You  will  find,  on  ex- 
amination, that  they  all  take  the  same  course — that 
in  coiling  around  their  respective  poles,  they  all  go 
from  the  east  to  the  west  by  way  of  the  south.  Nor 


124  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

can  you  force  them  to  change  their  direction.  If 
you  put  them  around  the  poles  in  reverse  order,  you 
will  find,  before  many  days  have  passed,  that  they 
have  undone  your  work,  and  coiled  themselves  up 
just  as  they  were  before  you  meddled  with  them. 

Step  across,  now,  to  this  patch  of  beans.  These, 
too,  you  observe,  have  a  manifest  choice  in  regard 
to  the  route  they  take.  Starting  from  the  east, 
again,  every  runner  reaches  the  west  by  going 
around  by  the  north  side  of  the  pole.  And  they  are 
just  as  much  determined  to  go  in  this  direction  as 
are  the  hop-vines  to  go  in  the  other.  They  will  re- 
sist all  your  attempts  to  train  them  to  a  different 
course. 

You  see,  then,  that  these  plants  are  under  law. 
They  are  bound  to  a  fixed  method  of  growth  and 
development.  They  must  take  a  definite  direction, 
as  certainly  as  water  must  run  down-hill.  Nor  is 
this  otherwise  than  we  should  expect.  It  is  only 
one  of  the  innumerable  instances  of  order  and 
method  which  appear  in  the  works  of  God,  and 
which  so  powerfully  illustrate  his  wisdom  and  good- 
ness. 


NO  man  who  improves  his  leisure  hours  in  read- 
ing  and   study,   can  fail  of  becoming  distin- 
guished and  useful  in  his  profession  ;  while  he  who 
spends  his  time  in  idleness  or  self-indulgence,  is  sure 
to  occupy  an  inferior  position  in  life. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  125 


THE   FLY. 

WHAT  a  sharp  little  fellow  is  Mister  Fly, 
He  goes  where  he  pleases,  low  or  high, 
And  can  walk  just  as  well  with  his  feet  to  the  sky 
As  I  can  on  the  floor. 

At  the  window  he  conies, 
"With  a  buzz  and  a  roar, 

And  o'er  the  smooth  glass, 
Can  easily  pass, 
Or  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door. 

He  eats  the  sugar  and  goes  away, 

Nor  even  once  asks  what  there  is  to  pay, 

And  sometimes  he  crosses  the  tea-pot's  steam 

And  comes  and  plunges  his  head  in  the  cream ; 

Then  on  the  edge  of  the  jug  he  stands, 

And  cleans  his  wings  with  his  feet  and  hands, 

This  done,  through  the  window  he  hurries  away, 

And  gives  a  buzz  as  if  to  say, 

"  At  present  I  haven't  a  minute  to  stay, 

But  '11  peep  in  again  in  the  course  of  the  day," 

Then  away  he'll  fly, 

Where  the  sunbeams  lie, 

And  neither  stop  to  shake  hands, 

Nor  bid  one  good  bye  : 
Such  a  strange  little  fellow  is  Mister  Fly, 
Who  goes  where  he  pleases,  low  or  high, 

And  can  walk  on  the  ceiling 

Without  even  feeling 
A  fear  of  tumbling  down  "  sky  high." 


120 


MERRY  *S     GEMS     OF 


LITTLE  DOG  TOBY  AND  THE   WHITE 
PITCHER. 

UST  as  likely  as  not,  the 
MERRY  children  have  a 
little  dog  at  home.  He 
may  be  black,  or  white, 
or  brindled,  or  speckled, 
and  he  has  a  name  to 
which  he  answers  when 
called  by  it. 

Well,  I  have  a  little 
dog,  too,  and  he  is  yel- 
low, and  he  has  a  large 

white  spot  on  the  side  of  his  neck,  and  his  name  is 
Toby.  He  is  about  as  large  as  a  large  cat,  and  he 
is  very  nimble  in  running  and  jumping. 

We  were  taking  tea,  and  Toby  made  himself  a 
little  too  familiar  by  jumping  up  at  one  and  then  at 
another,  so  we  had  him  put  out  into  the  kitchen. 

Very  soon  we  heard  a  loud  threshing  and  knock- 
ing about  the  kitchen  floor,  and  Toby  began  to 
scream  and  yell  most  piteously. 

We  thought  he  was  in  some  mischief,  and  that 
Maggy,  the  little  colored  girl,  was  chastising  him 
without  due  authority.     Still  there  was  no  account- 
ing for  the  knocking  on  the  floor  and  around  the' 
room,  accompanied  by  the  screams  of  the  poor  little 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  127 

dog.  The  noise  did  not  sound  like  that  which 
would  be  made  by  a  rat,  or  a  cat,  or  another  dog. 

I  ran  to  the  kitchen  door,  and  found  it  all  dark. 
I  called  "  Maggie,  Maggie,"  and  "  Katy,  Katy,"  but 
there  was  no  Maggie  nor  Katy  there,  but  Toby 
kept  screaming,  and  the  threshing  on  the  floor  was 
still  going  on. 

I  procured  a  light,  and  as  I  entered  the  room 
with  the  light  in  my  hand,  Toby  made  a  desperate 
spring  from  under  a  chair,  and  leaped  out  upon  the 
floor  as  though  he  had  broken  away  from  something 
that  had  hold  of  him. 

Toby  stopped  screaming,  and  the  knocking 
ceased.  By  the  side  of  the  chair  laid  a  white 
earthen  pitcher,  in  which  there  had  been  milk  on 
the  table. 

The  mystery  was  now  solved.  Toby  had  acquired 
a  naughty  way  of  jumping  up  in  a  chair,  and  so 
on  to  the  table,  and  helping  himself  to  whatever  he 
could  find  that  he  liked.  He  ought  to  have  been 
taught  better,  but  so  it  was.  These  dogs,  as  well  as 
boys  and  girls,  will  have  some  naughty  tricks. 

Toby,  being  shut  out  from  the  dining-room,  as  I 
have  told  you,  thought  he  would  make  amends  for 
the  indignity,  by  climbing  the  table  and  helping 
himself  in  the  dark. 

What  else  he  found  I  do  not  know,  but  it  seems 
he  had  a  desire  for  a  little  milk  with  his  supper,  and 
instead  of  turning  the  milk  out  into  a  cup,  as  .is  the 
proper  way,  he  very  clownishly  thrust  his  head  into 


128  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

the  pitcher  ;  and  when  he  had  once  got  his  head  in 
there,  he  could  not  get  it  out.  No  doubt  he  was 
terribly  frightened  at  his  calamity,  and  so  jumped 
down  on  the  floor  and  ran  around  the  room,  thresh- 
ing his  pitcher  and  screaming  most  piteously,  as  we 
have  already  seen. 

Toby  was  no  doubt  glad  to  get  relieved  by  the 
help  of  the  chair  from  his  ugly  nightcap,  and  I  hope 
he  will  tell  all  the  children  to  take  care  how  they 
steal  milk,  or  thrust  their  heads  into  pitchers  that 
don't  belong  to  them. 


THE  TWO  WORLDS. 

A  land  where  sweetest  roses  fade, 

And  smiling  youth  grows  quickly  old  ; 

A  land  where  sunshine  turns  to  shade, 
And  beauty  takes  a  different  mould  ; 

A  land  of  change,  a  land  of  care, 
Whose  fleeting  joys  are  little  worth  ; 

A  land  whose  smile  becomes  a  tear — 
That  land  is  Earth  1 

A  land  of  love  where  naught  can  sever, 
And  beauty  blooms  with  lustre  fair ; 

A  land  where  youth  is  young  forever, 
For  time  exerts  no  influence  there ; 

A  land  where  streams  of  pleasure  flow, 
And  golden  harps  to  all  are  given  ; 

A  land  where  we  our  God  shall  know — 
That  land  is  Heaven ! 


PROSE     AND     POETRY 


1-29 


LITTLE  GRAVES. 

THERE'S  many  an  empty  cradle, 

There's  many  a  vacant  bed, 
There's  many  a  lonely  bosom, 

Whose  joy  and  light  is  fled  ; 
For  thick  in  every  graveyard 

The  little  hillocks  lie— 
And  every  hillock  represents 

An  angel  in  the  sky. 


130  MERRY'S    GEMS    OP 


A   HINT   FOR   THE   BOYS. 

BOYS,  truth  is  one  of  the  richest  jewels  you  can 
ever  find,  and  one  you  should  cherish  as  of 
priceless  value.  Many  of  your  class  have  been  lost 
to  honor  and  greatness  by  disregarding  its  divine 
precepts,  and  have  failed  to  become  what  they 
might  have  been,  men  of  renown,  by  foolishly  cast- 
ing it  away  from  their  bosoms.  All  have  this  gem 
in  the  beginning,  boys,  but  it  may  be  lost  by  wick- 
edness and  carelessness  ;  if  you  have  not  lost  it,  and 
we  hope  you  have  not,  let  nothing  cheat  you  out  of 
it :  for  its.  equal  is  hardly  to  be  found  when  lost. 

Profane  language,  boys,  is  a  sure  index  of  a  wick- 
ed heart  and  low  breeding.  Do  you  know  a  man  or 
boy  who  commands  respect  from  his  neighbors  ? 
You  never  hear  them  swear — no  oath  ever  trembles 
on  their  lips — emulate  their  bright  example.  Will 
you  read  the  catalogue  of  sin  and  crime  ?  You  will 
find  the  disgraced  actor  to  have  been  profane.  Re- 
flect on  this,  boys,  and  let  no  word  of  profanity 
escape  your  lips. 

Beware  of  the  company  of  such  as  haunt  the 
tavern  ;  they  may  induce,  over-persuade  you  to  par- 
take of  the  cup  of  shame  and  poison  ;  beware  of 
them,  "  the  tempting  wine  cup  shun  " — it  will  lead 
you  to  every  sin,  and  disgrace  you  forever.  Our 
word  for  it,  boys,  we  are  dealing  in  facts  with  you. 
Touch  not  a  drop,  for  you  may  become  a  drunkard 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  131 

in  the  end,  and  you  know  how  pitiful  an  object  the 
poor  drunkard  is. 

Be  honest,  be  generous,  be  frank,  be  sober,  be 
virtuous,  abounding  in  truth,  my  boys,  and  you  need 
not  fear  the  consequences.  Life  is  just  opening  her 
fitful  path  before  you,  but  armed  with  these  blessed 
traits  you  may  rush  fearlessly  to  the  battle  of  life 
and  fear  no  evil.  You  may  be  orphans,  but  if  you 
have  these  as  your  jewels,  you  will  meet  with 
friends  and  encouragement  in  every  lane  of  life. 
Men  of  business  and  wealth  have  their  eyes  upon 
you — watching  you  ;  they  want  clerks  for  their 
stores  and  apprentices  for  their  workshops — if  you 
have  the  virtues  we  have  mentioned,  they  will  not 
ask  a  better  recommendation,  but  will  choose  you  at 
once,  taking  you  to  their  confidence  and  make  men 
of  you,  and  when  they  sleep  in  their  graves,  as  all 
must,  you  may  fill  their  places  with  honor  and  re- 
nown, as  they  have  passed  away.  Boys,  will  you 
think  of  what  we  have  been  saying,  and  thinking, 
ACT? 


AN  exchange  says,  says  when  David  slew  Goliah 
with  a  sling,  the  latter  fell  stone  dead,  and  of  course, 
quite  astonished,  as  such  a  tiling  never  entered  his 
head  before  ! 


132  MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 


NEVER  GIVE   UP. 

NEVER  give  up !  it  is  wiser  and  better 

Always  to  hope,  than  once  to  despair  ; 
Fling  off  the  load  of  Doubt's  cankering  fetter, 

And  break  the  dark  spell  of  tyrannical  care  : 
Never  give  up  !  or  the  burden  may  sink  you — 

Providence  kindly  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  in  all  trials  and  troubles,  bethink  you, 

The  watchword  of  life  must  be,  Never  give  up  ! 

Never  give  up  !  there  are  chances  and  changes 

Helping  the  hopeful,  a  hundred  to  one ; 
And  through  the  chaos  High  Wisdom  arranges 

Ever  success,  if  you'll  only  hope  on  ; 
Never  give  up !  for  the  wisest  is  boldest, 

Knowing  that  providence  mingles  the  cup, 
And  of  all  maxims,  the  best,  as  the  oldest, 

Is  the  true  watchword  of  Never  give  up ! 

Never  give  up  !  though  the  grape  shot  may  rattle 

Or  the  full  thunder  cloud  over  you  burst, 
Stand  like  a  rock— and  the  storm  or  the  battle 

Little  shall  harm  you,  though  doing  their  worst : 
Never  give  up !  if  adversity  presses, 

Providence  wisely  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  the  best  counsel,  in  all  your  distresses, 

Is  the  stout  watchword  of  Never  give  up  ! 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  133 

READ   THIS   BOYS. 

TWO    WAYS    OF    TELLING    A    STORY. 

JN  one  of  the  most  populous  cities  of  New  Eng- 
land, a  year  since,  a  party  of  lads,  all  members  of 
the  same  school,  got  up  a  grand  sleigh-ride.  The 
sleigh  was  a  large  and  splendid  one,  drawn  by  six 
grey  horses. 

On  the  day  following  the  ride,  as  the  teacher  en- 
tered the  school-room,  he  found  his  pupils  in  high 
merriment,  as  they  chatted  about  the  fun  and  frolic 
of  their  excursion.  In  answer  to  some  inquiries 
which  he  made  about  the  matter,  one  of  the  lads 
volunteered  to  give  an  account  of  their  trip  and  its 
incidents. 

As  he  drew  near  the  end  of  his  story,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  0,  sir  !  there  was  one  little  circumstance 
that  I  had  almost  forgotten.  As  we  were  coming 
home,  we  saw  a  queer  looking  affair  in  the  road.  It 
proved  to  be  a  rusty  old  sleigh,  fastened  behind  a 
covered  wagon,  proceeding  at  a  very  slow  rate,  and 
taking  up  nearly  the  whole  road. 

"  Finding  the  owner  was  not  disposed  to  turn 
out,  we  determined  upon  a  volley  of  snowballs  and 
a  good  hurrah.  They  produced  a  right  effect,  for  the 
crazy  machine  turned  out  in  the  deep  snows  and  the 
skinny  old  pony  started  in  a  full  trot. 

*'  As  we  passed,  some  one  gave  the  old  jilt  of  a 
horse  a  good  crack,  which  made  him  run  faster  than 


134  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

he  ever  did  before,  I'll  warrant.  And  so,  with 
another  volley  of  snowballs  pitched  into  the  front 
part  of  the  wagon,  and  with  three-times-three  cheers, 
we  rushed  by. 

"  With  that,  an  old  fellow  in  the  wagon,  who  was 
buried  up  under  an  old  hat,  and  who  dropped  the 
reins,  bawled  out.  '  Why  don't  you  turn  out,  then  ?' 
says  the  drirer.  So  we  gave  him  three  rousing 
cheers  more.  His  horse  was  frightened  again,  and 
ran  up  against  a  loaded  team,  and  I  believe  almost 
capsized  the  old  creature  :  and  so  we  left  him." 

•;  Well,  boys,"  replied  the  instructor,  "  take  your 
seats,  and  I  will  take  my  turn  and  tell  you  a  story, 
all  about  a  sleigh-ride,  too.  Yesterday  afternoon  a 
very  venerable  old  clergyman  was  on  his  way  from 
Boston  to  Salem,  to  pass  the  residue  of  the  winter 
at  the  house  of  his  son.  That  he  might  be  prepared 
for  journeying  in  the  spring,  he  took  with  him  his 
wagon,  and  for  tke  winter  the  sleigh,  which  he 
fastened  behind  the  wagon. 

"  His  sight  and^Jiearing  were  somewhat  blunt  by 
age,  and  he  was  proceeding  very  slowly  and  quietly, 
for  his  horse  was  old  and  feeble  like  his  owner.  His 
thought's  reverted  to 'the  scenes  of  his  youth,  of  his 
manhood,  and  of  his  riper  years.  Almost  forgetting 
himself  in  the  multitude  of  his  thoughts,  he  was  sud- 
denly disturbed  and  terrified  by  loud  hurrahs  from 
behind,  and  by  a  furious  pelting  upon  the  top  of  his 
wagon. 

"  In  his  trepidation  he  dropped  his  reins,  and  as 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  135 

his  aged  and  feeble  hands  were  quite  benumbed 
with  cold,  he  could  not  gather  them  up,  and  his 
horse  began  to  run  away.  In  the  midst  of  the  old 
man's  troubles,  there  rushed  by  him,  with  loud 
shouts,  a  large  party  of  boys,  in  a  sleigh  drawn  by 
six  horses.  '  Turn  out !  turn  out,  old  fellow  F  l  Give 
us  the  road,  old  boy  F  '  What  will  you  take  for 
your  pony,  old  daddy  V  l  Go  it,  frozen  nose  ?' 
'  What's  the  price  of  oats  ?'  were  the  various  cries 
that  met  his  ear. 

"  *  Pray  do  not  frighten  my  horse  F  exclaimed  the 
infirm  driver.  '  Turn  out,  then  !  turn  out  F  was  the 
answer  ;  which  was  followed  by  repeated  cracks  and 
blows  from  the  long  whip  of  the  'grand  sleigh/ 
with  showers  of  snowballs,  and  three  tremendous 
cheers  from  the  bo/s  that  were  in  it.  The  terror  of 
the  old  man  and  his  horse  was  increased,  and  the 
latter  ran  away  with  him,  to  4he  imminent  danger  of 
his  life.  He  contrived,  however,  to  secure  his 
reins,  and  to  stop  his  horse  just  in  season  to  prevent 
his  being  dashed  against  a  loaded  team. 

"  A  short  distance  brought  him  to  his  journey's 
end,  the  house  of  his  son.  His  old  horse  was  com- 
fortably housed  and  fed,  and  he  himself  abundantly 
provided  for.  That  son,  boys,  is  your  instructor, 
and  that  old  fellow  and  old  boy  (who  did  not  turn  out 
for  you,  but  who  would  gladly  have  given  you  the 
whole  road  had  he  heard  your  approach),  that  old 
daddy  and  frozen  nose,  was  your  master's  father  1" 

Some  of  the  boys  buried  their  heads  behind  their 


13t;  MERRY'S    GEMS    ov 

desks  ;  some  cried,  and  many  hastened  to  the  teach- 
er with  apologies  and  regrets  without  end.  All 
were  freely  pardoned  ;  but  were  cautioned  that  they 
should  be  more  civil  for  the  future  to  inoffensive 
travelers,  and  more  respectful  to  the  aged  and 
infirm. 

THE  OTHER  HOME. 

LIFE  is  full  of  doubt  and  sorrow  ; 

All  that's  beautiful  must  die  ; 
Joyous  smiles  to-day — to-morrow 

Bitter  tears — a  heartfelt  sigh. 
All  we  ever  love  and  cherish. 

But  reminds  it  cannot  stay, 
And  our  brightest  hopes  will  perish 

In  the  morning  of  their  day. 

Never  more !  it  wakes  an  echo, 

Half  of  joy  and  half  of  pain  ; 
Visions  rise  in  quick  succession, 

Never  will  be  mine  again ! 
There  was  one  best  loved  and  truest, 

Ever  near  in  days  of  yore — 
Went  to  rest  down  in  the  churchyard 

I  shall  meet  her  never  more  1 

In  the  land  beyond  the  river, 

Farewell  echoes  never  come : 
Life  is  but  a  journey  thither, 

To  that  other,  brighter  home ! 
Though  our  feet  too  often  falter, 

Treading  in  the  weary  way, 
Let  a  pure  faith  guide  us  ever, 

Till  we  reach  the  realms  of  day 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


137 


KITE-FLYING. 

"  SAY,  George,  did  you  ever  see  a  kite 

Soar  up  to  the  clouds,  and  out  of  sight  ?" 

"  Indeed,"  said  George.  "  you  must  think  me  green, 

When  out  of  sight,  how  could  it  be  seen." 

"Ah  1  there  you  have  me,"  said  Charles — "  a  hit — 

I  cannot  cope  with  your  ready  wit, 

So  we'll  drop  it  there,  and  see  how  high 

We  can  get  our  beautiful  kite  to  fly. 

"  Come,  boys,  hurra  !  away  to  the  hill, 
The  breeze  is  free,  our  kite  to  fill, 
The  string  is  long,  and  shan't  we  be  proud 
To  see  her  piercing  yon  floating  cloud." 

Then  off  they  went  at  a  joyous  pace, 
The  kite  shot  up  with  bird-like  grace, 
As  the  string  ran  out,  the  ambitious  kite, 
Had  entered  the  cloud,  and  v.as  out  of  sight. 


138  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

Huzza  !  Huzza !  shouted  one  and  all — 
But  pride  must  always  come  to  a  fall — 
The  mist-soaked  paper  fell  off,  and  the  frame 
Followed  its  tail,  and  earthward  came. 

Well,  now,  I  see,  said  Charles,  with  a  sigh, 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  flying  too  high , 
And  iadeed  it  is  nothing  to  make  one  proud, 
When  there's  light  around  to  be  hid  in  a  cloud. 


THE  BIBLE. 

UPON  a  mount  a  tree  doth  stand, 

Heavy  with  fruit  of  gold, 
And  it  is  seen  through  all  the  land 

Shining  far  in  pictures  bold. 
Many  there  came  from  every  land, 

To  seek  for  the  precious  ore, 
They  shook  the  tree  with  earnest  hand 

And  its  fruits  away  they  bore; 

Yet  its  riches  are  never  gone, 

And  the  tree  is  never  bare  ; 
When  e'er  the  precious  fruit  falls  down, 

Other  fruits  instead  appear. 
What  is  it  called  ?  and,  if  on  earth, 

Where,  I  ask,  where  can  it  be  ? 
And  who  has  seen  and  known  its  worth  ? 

The  precious  Bible  is  the  tree ! 


PROSF     AND     POETRY 


139 


PERSEYERANCE— ITS  VALUE. 

BOUT  ten  years  ago,  there  was  a  little  news- 
boy— very  little  for  his  age,  which  was  fourteen 


140  MERRY    S     GEMSOP 

years — who  sold  papers  at  the  corner  now  occupied 
by  the  "  Tribune  "  building  and  its  adjuncts.  This 
boy,  owing  to  his  cheerful  countenance,  his  proverb- 
ial integrity,  his  industry — in  brief,  his  good  quali- 
ties generally,  made  friends  for  himself  everywhere, 
and  particularly  among  publishers.  He  did  a  very 
good  business,  but  his  position  did  not  suit  him.  We 
advised  him  to  go  into  a  store. 

"  I  can  neither  read  nor  write,"  responded  he, 
mournfully. 

"Apprentice  yourself  to  some  trade,  then,"  was 
our  advice. 

"  I  think  I  will,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  brightening 
eye,  and  flushed  cheek  ;  "  I  think  I  will ;"  and  off 
he  bounded. 

We  lost  sight  of  him  after  this,  and  finally  forgot 
that  such  a  being  existed. 

About  a  week  ago,  an  athletic,  well  dressed  young 
man,  with  a  ferocious  pair  of  whiskers,  and  a  brace 
of  merry,  twinkling  optics,  that  betokened  a  good 
heart,  and  the  best  of  health,  stopped  us  in  the 
street,  and,  extending  his  hand,  called  us  by  name. 

"  Really,  sir,  you  have  the  advantage  of  me." 

"  Not  know the  little  newsboy  !"  he  cries, 

as  if  astonished. 

Truly  it  was  our  little  newsboy.  He  had  taken 
our  early  advice,  and  had  apprenticed  himself  to  a 
machinist. 

"  Where  are  you  working  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  work  now,>;  was  his  proud  answer  ; 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  141 

"  I  own  a  saw  mill  on  Long  Island,  and  am  doing 
business  for  myself.  I  have  been  my  own  boss  a 
year.  I  bought  out  my  concern  with  the  savings  of 
eight  years  ;  I  have  a  wife  and  two  children,  and  my 
own  cottage,  and  garden  for  them  to  live  and  delve 
in,  and  am  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  I  can  read 
and  write,  too,"  he  continued,  smiling  with  an  air 
of  triumph, 
mm 

KINDNESS. — Would  it  not  please  you  to  pick  up  a 
string  of  pearls,  drops  of  gold,  diamonds,  and 
precious  stones,  as  you  pass  along  the  street?  It 
would  make  you  feel  happy  for  a  month  to  come. 
Such  happiness  you  can  give  to  others.  How,  do 
you  ask  ?  By  dropping  sweet  words,  kind  remarks, 
and  pleasant  smiles  as  you  pass  along.  These  are 
true  pearls  and  precious  stones  which  can  never  be 
lost  ;  of  which  none  can  deprive  you.  Speak  to  that 
orphan  child  ;  see  the  diamonds  drop  from  her 
cheeks.  Take  the  hand  of  that  friendless  boy  ; 
bright  pearls  flash  in  his  eyes.  Smile  on  the  sad  and 
the  dejected ;  a  joy  diffuses  his  cheek  more  brilliant 
than  the  most  splendid  precious  stones.  By  the  way 
side,  mid  the  city's  din,  and  at  the  fireside  of  the 
poor,  drop  words  to  cheer  and  bless.  You  will  feel 
happier  when  resting  on  your  pillow  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  than  if  you  had  picked  up  a  score  of  perish- 
ing diamonds.  The  latter  fade  and  crumble  in 
time  ;  the  former  grow  brighter  with  age,  and  pro- 
duce happier  reflections  forever. 


142  MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


JOHN   RANDOLPH   OUTDONE. 

OF  the  many  amusing  anecdotes  of  this  eccentric 
man  of  Roanoke,  we  do  not  believe  the  follow- 
ing was  ever  in  print : 

He  was  traveling  through  a  part  of  Virginia  in 
which  he  was  unacquainted — and  stopped  during  the 
night  at  the  inn  near  the  forks  of  the  road.  The  inn- 
keeper was  a  fine  old  gentleman,  and  no  doubt  one 
of  the  first  families  of  the  Old  Dominion.  Knowing 
who  his  distinguished  guest  was,  he  endeavored 
during  the  evening  to  draw  him  into  conversation, 
but  failed  in  all  his  efforts.  But  in  the  morning, 
when  Mr.  Randolph  was  ready  to  start,  he  called 
for  his  bill,  which  on  being  presented  was  paid. 
The  landlord,  still  anxious  to  have  some  conversa- 
tion with  him,  began  as  follows  : 

"  Which  way  are  you  traveling,  Mr.  Randolph  ?" 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Randolph,  with  a  look  of  dis- 
pleasure. 

"  I  asked,"  said  the  landlord,  "  which  way  are  you 
traveling  ?'' 

"  Have  I  paid  you  my  bill  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  I  owe  you  anything  more  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  I  am  going  just  where  I  please — do  you 
understand  ?" 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  143 

The  landlord  by  this  time  got  somewhat  excited 
and  Mr.  Randolph  drove  off.  But  to  the  landlord's 
surprise  in  a  few  minutes  the  servant  returned  to 
inquire  for  his  master  which  of  the  forks  of  the 
road  to  take.  Mr.  Randolph,  not  being  out  of  hear- 
ing distance,  the  landlord  spoke  out,  at  the  top  of 
his  breath,  "  Mr.  Randolph,  you  don't  owe  me  one 
cent ;  just  take  which  road  you  please." 


WHISTLING. 

BOYS,  we  believe  in  whistling — we  love  to  hear 
it.  The  boy  or  man  at  the  plough,  at  the 
bench,  or  any  other  place  where  whistling  may  be 
tolerated,  indicates  that  he  is  contented,  that  he  is 
happy,  and  that  he  has  music  in  his  soul  and  on  his 
lips,  when  your  hear  him  whistling.  Those  who 
despise  whistling  should  try  to  catch  all  the  bobo- 
links and  mocking  birds,  to  prevent  them  from 
making  music.  Whistling  is  a  happy  institution  ; 
the  boy  or  man  who  whistles  works  more  willingly 
and  constantly  than  the  one  who  whistles  not — he 
shows  that  he  has  a  cheerful  heart  under  his  shirt 
front. 

Mean,  selfish,  jealous  men,  nevei  whistle.  Did 
you  ever  hear  an  angry  person  whistling  ?  Look 
to  it  boys — we  will  wait  for  the  answer. 


144 


MERRY'S   GEMS   OF 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  145 

THE  FIRST  SNOW  OF  THE  SEASON. 

HEIGHO  !  brother  Henry,  what's  there, 
Coming  down  by  the  bend  of  the  road  ? 

'Tis  the  old  mammoth  sleigh,  I  declare— 
Six  horses !  and  oh !  what  a  load ! 

I  wish  we  were  going,  don't  you  ? 
Oh  me !  what  glorious  fun ! 

Not  so  funny,  dear  Georgie— wet  through 
By  the  fast  falling  snow,  every  one ! 

Oh  !  never  mind  that.     I'd  away, 
If  I  could,  without  being  drowned. 

But  the  snow  is  not  deep,  and  the  sleigh 
Cuts  through,  every  step,  to  the  ground. 

Well,  I  wish  they  would  just  take  me  in ; 
I  would  go,  though  you'd  think  me  a  fool. 

No,  brother,  I  would  say  'twas  a  sin, 

For  'twould  be  playing  truant  from  school. 

I  didn't  mean  that.     But,  you  know, 
I  never  would  go  without  leave. 

Well,  let  us  then  hasten  to  go, 

It  is  time  we  were  there,  I  perceive. 

There's  the  stage  going  out  upon  wheels, 
Don't  you  think  they'll  stick  fast  in  the  plain  ? 

Perhaps  not,  brother  George,  for  it  feels 
As  if  snow  was  now  turning  to  rain. 

Well,  it  is  rather  damp — but  then 
It  is  first-rate  snow  for  a  ball. 

At  the  recess,  at  half  past  ten, 
Well  have  a  set-to,  one  and  all. 


146  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


THE  FAMILY  UNBROKEN. 

NO  thought  is  sweeter  than  that  in  heaven  the 
family  shall  be  unbroken.  All  shall  be  there, 
father,  mother,  brother,  sister.  No  one  absent.  No 
tie  of  love  broken.  No  heart-ache,  no  mourning,  no 
sad  longing  for  some  dear  one  far  away.  The  love 
circle  is  complete.  Each  member  in  its  place,  filling 
the  hearts  of  all  others,  will  give  and  receive  the 
charm  of  fullness.  So  it  will  be  in  all  families.  It 
is  a  religion  of  love,  a  faith  of  the  heart,  as  well  the 
head.  It  is  that  for  which  the  whole  soul  longs. 

"  You  have  two  children,'7  said  I. 

"  I  Lave  four,"  was  the  reply.  "  Two  on  earth, 
two  in  heaven." 

There  spoke  the  mother  1  Still  hers  !  only  "  gone 
before  I"  Still  remembered,  loved,  and  cherished 
by  the  hearth  and  at  the  board  ;  their  places  not 
yet  filled  j  even  though  their  successors  draw  life 
from  the  same  faithful  breast  where  their  dying 
heads  were  pillowed.  * 

"  Two  in  heaven  !" 

Safely  housed  from  storm  and  tempest ;  no  sick- 
ness there  ;  nor  drooping  head,  nor  fading  eye,  nor 
weary  feet,  By  the  green  pastures,  tended  by  the 
Good  Shepherd,  linger  the  little  lambs  of  the  heav- 
enly fold. 

"  Two  in  heaven  1" 

Earth  is  less  attractive  !    Eternity  nearer  I    In- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  147 

visible  cords  drawing  the  maternal  soul  upward. 
"  Still,  small "  voices,  ever  whispering  Come  !  t9 
the  world-weary  spirit. 

"  Two  in  heaven  !" 

Mother  of  angels  1  Walk  softly  !  holy  eyes  watch 
thy  footsteps  !  cherub  forms  bend  to  listen  !  Keep 
thy  spirit  free  from  earth's  taint ;  so  shalt  thou  "  go 
to  them,"  though  "  they  may  not  return  to  thee." 


THE   DRUNKARD'S  WILL. 

ILEAYE  to  society  a  ruined  character,  wretched 
example,  and  memory  that  will  soon  rot. 

I  leave  to  my  parents,  during  the  rest  of  their 
lives,  as  much  sorrow  as  humanity,  in  a  feeble  and 
decrepid  state,  can  sustain. 

I  leave  to  my  brothers  and  sisters  as  much  morti- 
fication and  injury  as  I  could  well  bring  on  them. 

I  leave  to  my  wife  a  broken  heart,  a  life  of 
wretchedness,  $  shame  to  weep  over,  me,  premature 
death. 

I  give  and  bequeath  to  each  of  my  children,  pov- 
erty, ignorance,  a  low  character,  and  the  remem- 
brance that  their  father  was  a  monster. 


MERRY'S  GEMS  OF 


HELPING  MOTHER. 

K  fTlHAT'S  right,  my  son,  so  you  would  rather 
JL  hold  the  thread  for  your  mother  to  wind,  than 
go  and  play  with  the  boys  in  the  street,"  said  Mr. 
Stanley.  "  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Johnny,  "  I  would 
rather  help  her  as  long  as  she  needs  me,  then  I  can 
go  and  play  and  enjoy  it." 

•'  That's  the  boy  for  me,"  said  Mr.  Stanley  to  me 
in  a  low  tone,  "  I  shall  keep  an  eye  on  that  boy  ; 
when  he  grows  up,  I  would  rather  have  him  in  my 
store  than  nine- tenths  of  the  boys,  for  the  boy  that 
loves  to  do  as  his  mother  wishes  him,  will  be  faith- 
ful to  his  employees." 

Mr.  Stanley  passed  on  to  his  office,  for  he  was  a 
wealthy  merchant,  and  had  many  clerks  under  him, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.         ^        149 

and  I  watched  Johnny  till  the  thread  was  all  wound, 
and  several  other  things  were  done  for  "  mother," 
then  he  asked,  "  is  there  anything  else,  mother  ?"  and 
she  answered  "  no,  my  son,  you  can  go  and  play 
awhile  now,"  and  away  he  bounded  with  a  light  and 
joyous  heart,  singing  that  beautiful  song, 

"  I  ought  to  love  my  mother, 

She  loved  me  long  ago  : 
There  is  on  earth  no  other 

That  ever  loved  me  so. 
When  a  weak  babe,  much  trial 

I  caused  her,  and  much  care, 
For,  me  no  self-denial 

Nor  labor  did  she  spare." 

I  watched  those  boys  at  play,  and  could  not  but 
notice  the  difference  with  which  they  entered  into 
the  sport.  Johnny  entered  into  the  exciting  game 
with  all  the  love  of  a  warm  enthusiastic  nature — he 
had  a  quiet  conscience  within — he  had  done  his  duty, 
and  he  could  enjoy  it ;  but  his  companions  who  stole 
away  from  home  without  helping  their  mothers,  or 
wilfully  left  against  their  express  commands,  had 
but  little  trw  pleasure.  If  any  thing  went  wrong, 
they  were  sure  to  speak  cross  and  were  inclined  to 
grumble  at  almost  everything.  They  were  idlers 
too,  because  they  would  not  work,  and  could  not 
play  with  any  enjoyment.  What  says  the  poet? 

Don't  stand  in  your  track*  doing  nothing  but  grumble, 
But  start  with  a  run  if  you  meet  with  a  tumble  ; 
You  had  better  be  scoured  by  rubs  in  the  dust 
Than  to  be  in  your  idleness  eaten  by  rust. 


150  MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 

% 

You  will  find  this  true,  boys,  that  he  who  does 
cheerfully  what  his  parents  require,  enjoys  his  play 
very  much  more  than  he  who  disobeys  and  tries  to 
have  his  own  way.  And  then,  when  you  grow  up, 
and  want  to  find  friends,  remember  that  he  who 
loves  to  "  help  mother,"  will  always  find  warm 
friends  to  help  him  along  in  the  world.  Try  it 
boys  and  girls,  and  you  will  find  it  so. 


FRANKLIN'S  MODE  OF  LENDING  MONEY. 

M  T  SEND  you  herewith  a  bill  of  ten  louis-d'ors.  I 
J_  do  not  pretend  to  give  much — I  only  lend  it 
to  you.  When  you  return  to  your  country,  you  can 
not  fail  of  getting  into  some  business  that  will,  in 
time,  enable  you  to  pay  all  your  debts.  In  this 
case,  when  you  meet  another  honest  man,  in  similar 
distress,  you  will  pay  me  by  lending  this  money  to 
him,  enjoining  him  to  discharge  the. debt  by  a  like 
operation,  when  he  shall  be  able,  end  meet  with 
such  another  opportunity.  I  hope  it  may  pass 
through  many  hands,  before  it  meet ,  with  a  knave 
to  stop  its  progress.  This  is  a  tricTv  of  mine  to  do 
a  great  deal  of  good  with  a  little  money.  I  am  not 
rich  enough  to  spend  much  in  good  works,  and  am 
obliged  to  be  .cunning,  and  make  the  most  of  a 
little." 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  151 

COLD  WATER  SONG. 

THE  bright  sparkling  waters 

That  gush  from  the  hills, 
And  gladden  the  valley's 

With  streamlets  and  rills, 
Oh  1  they  never,  never  fail, 

But  with  laughter  and  song, 
From  springtide  till  springtide, 

They're  flashing  along. 

There's  life  in  their  sweetness, 

There's  health  in  their  flow, 
And  they  whisper  of  heaven 

Wherever  they  go ; 
And  they  scatter,  scatter  wide 

The  treasures  they  bear, 
As  pure  as  the  sunshine, 

As  free  as  the  air. 

Come,  then,  all  who  hear  me, 

To  fountains  divine, 
Touch,  taste  not,  nor  handle 

Gin,  brandy,  or  wine. 
They  wither,  wither  all, 

Bud,  blossom,  and  fruit, 
But  the  bright  sparkling  waters 

Are  health  to  the  root. 

They  gush  without  money, 

They  flow  without  price, 
To  the  hut  of  the  beggar,     • 

The  hovel  of  vice — 
They're  laden,  laden  richly 

With  promise  of  wealth, 
And  insure  to  the  temperate 

Contentment  and  health. 


152 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


LEARNING     TO     DRAW 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  153 


DRAWING.  " 

DRAWING  is  an  imitative  art  by  which  the 
forms,  positions,  and  relations  of  objects  are 
represented  on  a  flat  surface. 

The  faculties  employed  in  this  and  in  other  imita- 
tive arts  are  possessed  in  a  certain  degree  by  all 
persons.  Some  possess  these  faculties  in  so  high  a 
degree  as  to  indicate  a  decided  genius  for  such  pur- 
suits, and  if  they  give  practice  to  their  skill  they 
will  become  celebrated. 

The  majority,  however,  are  not  so  endowed  as  to 
be  able  without  instruction  and  considerable  prac- 
tice to  draw  with  very  great  skill. 

The  practice  of  elementary  drawing  at  school, 
has  been,  until  recently,  too  much  neglected,  and  in 
but  few  instances  now  does  it  receive  the  share  of 
attention  that  it  deserves.  Drawing  has  not  been 
considered  an  essential  part  of  a  good  education, 
consequently  but  few  have  received  instruction. 

But  tastes  are  changing,  and  the  time  is  near, 
when  the  ability  to  sketch  with  a  moderate  degree 
of  accuracy  will  be  indispensable  to  a  finished  edu- 
cation. It  is  a  beautiful  accomplishment,  and  will 
well  reward  all  the  labor  we  expend  in  learning  to 
draw. 

In  many  situations,  when  wandering  in  our  own 
or  in  foreign  lands,  we  see  objects,  of  which  we 
would  be  glad  to  carry  away  some  memorandum, 


154  MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 

and  of  which  a  slight  pencil  sketch  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  perpetuate  the  vision  and  even  to  commu- 
nicate it  to  others. 

It  is  a  sad  pity  that  for  want  of  a  few  elementary 
lessons  and  slight  practice,  we  should  lose  the 
pleasure  of  perpetuating  in  pictures  the  beautiful 
objects  which  we  meet.  In  this  view  drawing  is 
like  writing — the  one  communicates  by  pictures,  the 
other  by  written  words.  The  former  is  often  the 
most  impressive,  and  conveys  a  sentiment  and  a 
meaning  which  written  words  could  never  tell. 

Drawing  is  effected  by  various  materials,  as  chalk 
black  lead,  or  India  ink.  Simple  drawings  are 
made  on  white  paper,  or  Bristol  board.  One  should 
commence  the  study  of  the  art  by  acquiring  a  free 
and  easy  use  of  the  hand.  For  this  purpose,  draw- 
ing lines  with  chalk  on  a  black  board  is  a  very 
good  exercise.  After  you  have  acquired  an  easy 
use  of  the  hand,  and  can  readily  draw  straight  and 
curved  lines,  you  may  begin  by  copying  other  draw- 
ings. This  is  only  allowable  in  beginners,  and  is 
intended  to  make  them  familiar  with  the  manner  in 
which  lines  answer  the  purpose  of  representation. 

To  be  master  of  the  art  you  must  throw  aside  all 
copy-books,  and  learn  to  draw  by  your  own  ingenu- 
ity from  tangible  objects  in  nature  and  art.  In  this 
study  the  hand  is  taught  to  obey  the  conceptions  of 
the  mind.  When,  for  example,  we  see  a  house,  or  a 
tree,  we  observe  its  shape  or  figure,  its  lines  and 
angles,  or  curves.  We  then  take  a  pencil,  and 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  155 

bending  the  mind  intensely  on  the  form  of  the  ob- 
ject, we  define  it  in  visible  lines  on.  paper.  The  more 
perfectly  the  hand  can  obey  the  impulse  of  the 
mind  when  bent  on  a  definite  object,  the  more  true 
and  correct  will  the  drawing  appear. 

But,  for  directions  in  drawing,  reference  must 
be  had  to  books  on  the  subject,  and  to  competent 
teachers. 

If  by  a  word  of  suggestion  we  shall  be  able  to 
stimulate  a  taste  for  this  beautiful  art  in  any  one  of 
our  readers,  the  object  of  the  article  will  be  at- 
tained. 


LITTLE  BY  LITTLE. 

"  LITTLE  by  little,"  said  a  thoughtful  boy, 
"  Moment  by  moment  I'll  well  employ, 
Learning  a  little  every  day, 
And  not  spending  all  my  time  in  play ; 
And  still  this  rule  in  my  mind  shall  dwell, 
1  Whatever  I  do,  I  will  do  it  well.' 

"  Little  by  little,  I'll  learn  to  know 
The  treasured  wisdom  of  long  ago ; 
And  one  of  these  days  perhaps  we'll  see 
That  the  world  will  be  the  better  for  me." 
And  do  you  not  think  that  this  simple  plan 
Made  him  a  wise  and  a  useful  man  ? 


156  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 


WHAT   SAITH  THE  FOUNTAIN. 

WHAT  saith  the  fountain, 

Hid  in  the  glade, 
Where  the  tall  mountain 

Throweth  its  shade  ? 

"  Deep  in  my  waters,  reflected  serene, 
All  the  soft  beauty  of  heaven  is  seen  ; 
Thus  let  thy  bosom,  from  wild  passions  free, 
Ever  the  mirror  of  purity  be." 

What  saith  the  streamlet, 

Flowing  so  bright, 
Clear  as  a  beamlet, 

Of  silvery  light  ? 

"  Morning  and  evening  still  floating  along, 
Upward  forever  asccndcth  my  song  ; 


PROSE      AND     POETRY.  157 

Ba  thou  contented,  whate'er  may  befall, 
Cheerful  in  knowing  that  God  is  o'er  all," 

What  saith  the  river, 

Majestic  in  flow, 
Moving  forever 

Calmly  and  slow  ? 

"  Over  my  surface  the  great  vessels  glide, 
Ocean-ward  borne  by  my  strong  heaving  tide  ; 
Toil  on,  my  brother,  life  vanisheth  fast, 
Labor  unwearied,  rest  cometh  at  last." 

What  saith  the  ocean, 

Boundless  as  night, 
Ceaseless  in  motion, 

Resistless  in  might  ? 

"  Fountain  to  streamlet,  streamlet  to  river, 
All  in  my  bosom  commingle  forever  ; 
Morning  to  noontide,  noontide  to  night, 
Soon  will  eternity  veil  thee  from  sight," 


ADVICE   TO   YOUTH. 

IN  climbing  a  ladder,  always  look  up  —  never 
down,  for  in  doing  the  latter  a  fall  is  imminent. 
So  in  life  :  aim  to  keep  company  with  those  above 
you,  rather  than  those  beneath  you,  in  intellectual 
capacity  and  acquirement.  Emulate  your  superiors. 
If  you  can't  find  them,  you  are  blind  ;  if  you  won't 
find  them,  you  are  not  fit  for  their  society,  and  bet- 
ter at  once  turn  your  ears,  and  immerse  your  mud- 
dy faculties  in  the  mysteries  of  poudrette  or  putty 
making. 


158  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

THE  WAY  TO  BE  HAPPY. 

A  HERMIT  there  was, 

And  he  lived  in  a  grot, 
And  the  way  to  be  happy, 

They  said  he  had  got. 
And  I  wanted  to  learn  it, 

I  went  to  his  cell, 
And  when  I  came  there, 

The  old  hermit  said,  "  Well, 
Young  man,  by  your  looks, 

You  want  something,  I  see, 
Now  tell  me  the  business 

That  brings  you  here  ? 

"  The  way  to  be  happy, 

They  say  you  have  got. 
And  as  I  want  to  learn  it, 

I've  come  to  your  grot, 
Now  I  beg  and  entreat, 

If  you  have  such  a  plan, 
That  you'll  write  it  me  down, 

As  plain  as  you  can." 
Upon  which  the  old  hermit 

Went  to  his  pen, 
And  brought  me  this  note 

When  he  came  back  again. 

"  'Tis  being,  and  doing 

And  having,  that  make 
All  the  pleasures  and  pains, 

Of  which  things  partake, 
To  be  what  God  pleases — 

To  do  a  man's  best, 
And  to  have  a  good  heart — 

Is  the  way  to  be  blest. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


159 


f:i:f^ 


THE    CHINESE   OPIUM   SMOKER. 

A  CHINESE  opium  smoker  !  Have  you,  young 
reader,  ever  seen  one  ?  Do  you  know  what  Kis 
character  is  1  Perhaps  not.  Here  then  is  the  pic- 
ture of  one  for  you  to  look  at  If  you  will  examine 
the  picture  closely,  you  will  see  that  the  person  re- 
presented is  not  a  common  citizen,  but  an  officer  of 
the  government.  You  may  know  this  from  his  cap, 
which  hangs  upon  a  kind  of  ornamented  tripod, 
standing  upon  the  table  ;  from  the  long  string  of 
beads,  which  hangs  from  his  shoulders  down  in 
front ;  and  from  the  square  piece  of  figured  silk,  at- 


160  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

tached  to  his  dress  in  front,  which  is  partly  covered 
by  his  hand  in  holding  his  pipe.  The  opium  smoker 
usually  lies  down,  while  smoking,  that  he  may  con- 
veniently sleep  off  the  drowsy  effects  of  the  drug  ; 
for  the  smoking  commonly  puts  its  victim  to  sleep, 
and  he  will  often  fall  asleep  and  wake  up  several 
times  at  a  single  smoking. 

But  we  must  now  tell  you  how  this  officer  became 
an  opium  smoker.  He  was  probably,  in  the  first 
instance,  invited,  as  an  act  of  politeness,  to  smoke 
with  some  friend  ;  it  being  fashionable  in  China 
to  offer  a  friend  the  opium  pipe,  just  as  it  is  thought 
to  be  in  some  circles  in  this  Christain  land  to  offer 
a  guest  a  glass  of  wine,  or  of  some  other  spirituous 
liquor.  This  officer  probably  accepted  the  invita- 
tion of  his  friend,  and  found  the  effects  of  the  pipe 
very  exhilarating  and  pleasant.  This  induced  him 
to  try  it  again,  and  to  continue  the  practice  for  a 
few  days  ;  whenr  alas !  he  found  he  had  contracted  a 
habit,  which  he  could  not  throw  off,  without  serious 
consequences  to  his  health,  and  perhaps,  not  with- 
out endangering  his  life.  Yes,  my  young  friends, 
such  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  those  who  indulge  in  the 
luxury  of  the  opium  pipe  for  only  a  few  times,  or  a 
few  days.  A  habit  is  formed,  far  more  inveterate 
than  the  habit  of  drinking  ardent  spirits.  The  vic- 
tim of  the  habit  feels  compelled  to  indulge  it,  as  a 
means  of  preserving  his  health,  if  not  his  life.  He 
knows  of  no  medicine,  which  would  prevent  his 
suffering  severe  pain  and  disease,  if  he  should  cease 


i-ROSE     AND     POETRY.  161 

smoking  or  fail  to  be  regular  to  the  hour.  If,  for 
example,  he  has  smoked  every  day  at  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning  for  a  fortnight,  his  habit  has  become 
so  fixed,  that  he  must  smoke  at  that  hour,  whatever 
may  be  his  circumstances  or  occupation.  He  can- 
not defer  the  indulgence  till  ten  o'clock,  for  a  single 
day,  without  exposure  to  very  severe  pain.  Does 
he  not,  then,  make  a  fatal  mistake,  when  he  indulges 
in  the  use  of  the  pipe  for  the  first  time  ?  Can  the 
friend,  who  offers  him  the  pipe  as  an  act  of  polite- 
ness, be  innocent  in  respect  to  his  pitiable  condition  ? 
Do  you  now  wish  to  know  what  is  the  character 
of  the  opium  smoker  ?  Or  what  is  the  result  of  the 
habit  which  he  has  formed  ?  This  is  painful  to  de- 
scribe. It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  any  thing  more 
so  ;  for  the  effects  of  the  opium  smoking  are  disas- 
trous in  the  extreme.  It  leads  men  to  be  careless 
in  respect  to  their  personal  habits  ;  negligent  and 
even  incapable  of  attending  to  their  business  ;  in- 
different to  the  interests  of  their  families  and 
friends  ;  and  reckless  in  respect  to  moral  character. 
The  victim,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  is  the 
slave  of  his  habit ;  and  in  serving  it,  he  loses  his 
health  ;  he  loses  his  property  ;  he  loses  his  self-res- 
pect and  his  character.  As  he  passes  before  you,  his 
appearance  is  haggard  and  wretched  ;  his  features 
pale  and  his  system  emaciated  ;  his  step  is  not  firm, 
and,  did  you  not  know  to  the  contrary,  you  might 
think  he  was  suffering  from  extreme  poverty,  and 
the  advanced  stages  of  consumption.  Should  you 


162 


MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


PEOSB     AND     POETRY.  163 

follow  him  to  his  home,  while  you  might  not  find 
him  cross  and  savage,  you  would  see  him  careless 
and  thoughtless  of  the  welfare  of  his  family.  We 
have  been  told,  on  good  authority,  that  he  some- 
times sells,  not  only  the  clothing  of  his  wife  and 
children,  but  also  wife  and  children  "themselves,  in 
order  to  obtain  means  to  supply  himself  with  opium. 
Opium  he  must  have,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  crime, 
which  he  will  not  commit  in  cases  of  necessity,  to 
procure  it.  And  in  many  cases,  the  end  of  the 
whole  business  is  beggary  and  premature  death. 

Of  the  number  of  those  addicted  to  opium  smok- 
ing, in  China,  we  have  no  data  for  forming  a  cor- 
rect estimate.  Frequent  inquiries  of  the  Chinese 
themselves,  have  afforded  no  definite  information  in 
this  respect.  Some  have  said,  one-half  of  the  adult 
population ;  others  have  said  two-fifths  ;  some  three- 
fifths  ;  and  some  have  made  the  proportion  as  high 
as  four-fifths.  What  the  true  proportion  is,  we  know 
not.  But  we  do  know  that  the  number  of  those 
who  have  fallen  under  the  dominion  of  this  destruc- 
tive habit  is  very  large.  No  doubt  the  aggregate 
would  embrace  several  millions.  And  these  are 
most  of  them  from  the  fathers  and  husbands  of  the 
families  of  the  Celestial  Empire  ;  they  are  those 
w.ho  ought  to  be  the  support  and  comfort  of  those 
whom  Providence  has  placed  under  their  care  ;  but 
who  have  been  made  by  opium  a  plague  and  a  curse 
in  the  home  circle. 

There  is  one  more  inquiry,  which  arises  here,  and 


164  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

demands  attention.  Who  furnishes  the  Chinese 
with  opium  ?  And  where  does  it  come  from  ?  We 
must  answer  these  questions  briefly.  The  opium  is 
raised  in  India,  under  the  direction  of  the  East  In- 
dia Company,  to  which  it  is  a  source  of  very  great 
profit.  By  this  Company  it  is  sold  to  English  and 
American  merchants,  the  representatives  of  the  two 
pricipal  Christain  nations  of  the  world,  and  also  to 
the  merchants  of  some  other  countries.  These  mer- 
chants take  it  to  the  coast  of  China,  and  sell  it  at  a 
great  profit  to  themselves,  and  that  in  despite  of  the 
laws  of  the  Chinese  Empire,  prohibiting  the  impor- 
tation of  the  drug,  and  without  regard  to  the  untold 
amount  of  wretchedness  and  woe  which  it  brings 
upon  that  vast  nation.  And  now,  who  is  responsible 
for  that  wretchedness  and  woe  ?  Whose  is  the 
guilt  ?  Will  not  he  who  sells  the  opium,  as  well  as 
he  who  uses  it,  have  a  fearful  account  to  render  at 
the  bar  of  the  civilized  world,  and  at  the  higher 
Court  of  Eternal  Justice  ?  And  if  those,  who  de- 
sire to  promote  good  morals  in  this  Christain  land, 
feel  it  incumbent  upon  them  to  adopt  stringent 
measures  to  prevent  men  from  selling  ardent  spirits, 
ought  they  not  also  to  do  something  to  prevent  mer- 
chants, from  this  same  Christain  nation,  selling 
opium  to  the  Chinese,  among  whom  it  is  producing 
such  incalculable  evil  and  misery  ?  Let  sober  con- 
victions answer  this  question. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  165 


TEACHING  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 

"  WHAT  is  that  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Farley, 

Pointing  to  great  0. 
"  That's  my  hoop,"  said  willful  Charley, 

"  Can't  you  make  it  go  ?" 
"  No,  my  darling,  don't  talk  so, 

That's  the  letter  0. 

"  Now,  what's  that,  my  little  duck  ? 

Charlie,  dear,  be  good.1' 
"  That,  mamma,  is  father's  buck, 

When  he's  sawing  wood." 
"  Charlie,  dear,  don't  mother  vex, 

You  must  call  that  X. 

"  Now,  my  darling,  here's  a  kiss  " 

(Love  is  wisdom's  germ) — 
"  Charlie,  tell  me  what  is  this." 


166  MERRY'S    GEMSOF 

"  Mamma,  that's  a  worm." 
"  No,"  said  Mrs.  F.,  with  stress, 
"  Well,  you  know  'tis  S. 

"  Now,  my  pet,  I'll  try  you  here — 

Charlie,  be  a  man — 
Tell  me  what  is  that,  my  dear," 

"  That  is  sissy's  fan." 
"  Charles,  how  naughty  you  can  be  ! 

Sure  you  know  that's  V." 


LOVE  met  a  fair  child, 
Tripping  lightly  along ; 

With  a  look  meek  and  gentle 
She  warbled  this  song — 

"  0  Birdie,  0  Birdie, 

That  sits  on  a  tree, 
1  often  do  wonder 

What's  Sunday  to  thee. 

"  Your  voice  is  so  sweet 
All  that  holy  day  long, 

That  it  oft  makes  me  think 
There  is  praise  in  your  song. 

Love  threw  down  his  quivi-r — 
He  caught  the  sweet  maid  ; 

And  now  both  together 
They  sit  in  the  shade. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  167 


WORK,  BUT  DON'T  WORRY. 

WORK,  work,  but  don't  worry,  oh  no,  oh  no  ; 
The  less  you  hurry  the  faster  you'll  go : 
All  worry,  no  work  standeth  still  in  the  fire ; 
All  work,  and  no  worry  soon  wins  his  desire. 

Work,  work,  it  is  hearty  ;  but  worry  looks  pale  ; 
In  his  eye  there's  a  wildness,  its  vigor  doth' fail, 
It's  nerve  is  not  firm,  nor  its  footsteps  so  free  ; 
Work,  work,  and  not  worry,  is  that  which  suits  me. 

Work,  work,  hearty  work !  see  what  it  hath  wrough  t, 
For  right  and  for  truth  what  battles  hath  fought ; 
What  blessings  hath  won,  and  what  benefits  given, 
For  man,  and  the  workers  on  earth  and  in  heaven. 

But  worry,  poor  worry !  say  what  hath  it  done, 
But  to  flutter  abroad,  and  repine  when  alone  ? 
It  hath  stung  its  own  heart,  and  dug  its  own  grave, 
But  ever  been  powerless  to  bless  or  to  save. 

Work,  work,  saith  Scripture  ;  but  worry,  nowhere ; 
Faith,  faith  it  enjoins,  and  forbids  every  care ; 
With  labors  of  love  the  hands  it  would  fill, 
And  the  peace  of  the  Lord  on  the  spirit  distil. 

Work,  work,  how  it  thickens  !  Yet  do  what  you  can 
In  patience  and  gladness,  with  the  heart  of  a  man 
The  workers  shall  joy  when  the  work  is  all  o'er  ; 
Work  on,  fellow- worker,  but  worry  no  more. 


168  MERRY'S    GEMS    OP 


THE   WREATH. 

ONE  bright  evening,  as  I  was  wandering  in  the 
beautiful  woods  of  W -,  I  suddenly  came 

upon  a  group  of  children. 

Two  little  girls  were  busily  employed  in  twining 
a  wreath  of  the  many  richly  tinted  flowers  which 
they  had  gathered  as  they  had  passed  along. 

Another  little  girl,  the  youngest,  whose  bright 
hair  fell  around  her  in  a  shower  of  golden  curls, 
and  for  whom  the  wreath  was  evidently  intended, 
was  flitting  about  from  one  to  the  other,  in  a  state 
of  restless  delight  ;  now  assisting  her  little  brother 
to  arrange  the  flowers,  and  now  handing  them  to 
her  sisters  for  the  wreath.  I  did  not  like  to  inter- 
rupt them  ;  and  yet,  wishing  to  see  the  little  girl 
crowned  with  her  beautiful  wreath,  I  sat  down  be- 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  169 

neath  a  tree,  where  I  could  observe  all  that  passed 
without  being  perceived  by  the  little  party. 

I  had  not  been  there  long,  when  one  of  the  little 
girls  called  out  in  a  very  distressed  tone  of  voice, 
"  Oh,  Ernest !  Ernest !  do  come  here,  and  kill  this 
horrid  earwig  1  do  be  quick."  Ernest,  a  tall,  man- 
ly-looking boy,  whom  I  had  not  before  observed, 
came  forward  with  a  book  in  his  hand,  which  he 
laid  down,  and  said  kindly,  as  he  took  away  the 
offending  insect — 

Why,  Annie,  dear,  you  are  too  old  to  be  afraid  of 
an  earwig  ;  and,  besides,  you  should  not  call  it  hor- 
rid, for  you  know  God  made  it  as  well  as  you,  and 
nothing  which  he  has  made  can  be  horrid.  Neither 
should  you  wish  me  to  kill  it,  simply  because  you  do 
not  like  it,  for  you  know  we  should  never  take  away 
the  life  of  anything,  unless  it  is  absolutely  necessary, 
and  we  cannot  avoid  doing  so.  And  do  you  know, 
Annie,  this  horrid  earwig,  as  you  call  it,  is,  in  real- 
ity, very  beautiful ;  for  though  we  cannot  now  see 
them,  he  has  a  pair  of  exquisite  thin  gauze  wings, 
shaped  like  an  ear,  from  which  he  derives  his  name 
of  earwing,  which  has  been  corrupted  into  earwig." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  other  little  girl,  I  wish  I  could 
see  his  wings,  "  I  did  not  know  that  earwigs  had 
any  ;  do,  Ernest,  make  him  show  them  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  now,  dear,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  when 
we  go  home  we  will  ask  papa  to  lend  us  his  micro- 
scope, and  then  you  will  see  them  very  ulainly. 


170  MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 

But  come,  are  you  not  ready  to  go  now,  for  it  is 
getting  late  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Annie,  "  we  have  just  finished 
Edith's  wreath.  Here,  Edith,  darling  ;  come  and 
let  me  put  it  on  for  you.  There !  is  it  not  beauti- 
ful, Ernest  ?" 

Ernest  gave  a  very  approving  look,  and  little 
Edith  said — 

"Oh  yes,  it  is  beautiful ;  thank  you,  dear  Annie ! 
and  Carrie^  too,  for  having  made  it  for  me  ;"  and 
the  put  up  her  little  mouth  for  a  kiss,  whilst  her 
loving  blue  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  as,  taking 
her  little  brother's  hand,  she  said — 

"  Come,  Willie  !  let  us  run  on  and  show  mamma 
how  gay  I  am  ;  they  walk  so  slow,  I  can't  keep 
pace  with  them." 

"  How  nice  it  is,  Ernest,'7  said  Annie,  "  to  make 
other  persons  happy.  I  am  sure  it  has  given  us  far 
more  pleasure  to  make  that  wreath  for  Edith,  than 
if  we  had  made  it  for  ourselves  ;  has  it  not  Carrie  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  thought,  as  their  happy  voices  died  away 
in  the  distance,  "  how  nice  it  is  to  make  other  per- 
sons happy."  How  I  wished  that  all  people  would, 
like  little  Annie,  think  so  too  ;  for  if  they  would, 
how  much  pain  and  sorrow,  from  unkind  words  and 
actions,  would  be  avoided !  Do  not  you  think  so, 
too,  little  reader  ?  and  will  not  you  try  to  be  kind 
and  gentle,  and  endeavor  to  make  all  around  you 
happy  ? 


PROSE    AND     POETRY.  171 


THE   SOUHEGAN   RIVER. 

TEN  leagues  in  length,  among  the  hills, 

A  little  river  winds  its  way, 
Fed  by  a  hundred  brooks  and  rills, 

It  keeps  on  flowing  night  and  day 

Along  its  banks  fresh  pastures  grow, 
And  laughing  fields  of  corn  and  grain  ; 

And  thirsty  sheep  and  cattle  know 
Where  WATER  is  ne'er  sought  in  vain. 

Shrewd  anglers,  crouching  by  its  side, 
Catch  pickerel,  eel,  and  speckled  trout ; 

And  on  its  winter-frozen  tide, 
The  schoolboy's  skates  swift  mark  their  rout. 

A  dozen  mills  its  current  turns, 

Where  spindles  whirl,  and  looms  keep  time ; 
Or  rumbling  stones  grind  up  the  corn, 

Or  saws  and  lathes  perpetual  chime. 

Six  thriving  villages  have  grown 

Near  by  this  little  river's  side, 
And  happy  thousands  gladly  own 

How  much  they  owe  their  patron's  tide. 


Reader,  whoever  thou  may'st  be, 
These  lines  are  written  unto  thee  ; 
Their  lesson  scan,  their  moral  heed, 
And  follow  where  their  teachings  lead. 

If  rivers  ne'er  forget  to  flow 
And  scatter  blessings  where  they  go, 
Why  should'st  thou  spend  an  idle  life, 
Or  vex  the  earth  with  selfish  strife  ? 


172  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

Bather,  each  day,  by  word  and  deed, 
Do  GOOD  to  those  who  stand  in  need  ; 
And  thousands  yet  shall  bless  thy  name, 
And  hand  it  down  to  honest  fame. 


TRY,  TRY  AGAIN. 

'Tis  a  lesson  you  should  heed — 

Try,  try  again. 
If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 

Try,  try  again, 

Then  your  courage  should  appear ; 
For,  if  you  will  persevere, 
You  will  conquer,  never  fear, 

Try,  try  again. 

Once  or  twice,  though  you  should  fail, 

Try,  try  again. 
If  you  would  at  last  prevail, 

Try,  try  again. 
If  we  strive,  'tis  no  disgrace, 
Though  we  may  not  win  the  race. 
What  should  we  do  in  such  a  case  ? 

Try,  try  again. 

If  you  find  your  task  too  hard, 

Try,  try  again. 
Time  will  bring  you  your  reward  ; 

Try,  try  again. 
All  that  other  folks  can  do. 
Why  with  patience  should  not  you  ? 
Only  keep  this  rule  in  view, 

Try,  try  again. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  173 

BYE-AND-BYE. 

THERE  is  music  enough  in  these  three  words  for 
the  burden  of  a  song.  There  is  hope  wrapped 
up  in  them,  an  articulate  beat  of  the  human  heart. 

Bye-and-bye ! 

We  heard  it  as  long  ago  as  we  can  remember, 
when  we  made  brief  but  perilous  journeys  from 
chair  to  table,  and  from  table  to  chair  again. 

We  heard  it  the  other  day,  when  two  parted  that 
had  been  "  loving  in  their  lives/7  one  to  California, 
and  the  other  to  her  her  lonely  home. 

Everybody  says  it — sometime  or  another.  The 
little  boy  whispers  it  when  he  dreams  of  exchanging 
the  little  stub  shoes  for  boots  like  those  of  his 
father. 

The  man  murmurs  it  —  when  in  life's  middle 
watch,  he  sees  his  plans  half  finished,  and  his  hopes 
yet  in  the  bud,  waving  in  the  cold  late  spring. 

The  old  man  says  it — when  he  thinks  of  putting  off 
the  mortal  for  the  immortal,  to-day  for  to-morrow. 

The  weary  watcher  for  the  morning,  whiles  away 
the  dark  with  "  bye-and-bye." 

Sometimes  it  sounds  like  a  song  ;  sometimes  there 
is  a  sigh  or  sob  in  it.  What  wouldn't  the  world 
give  to  find  it  in  almanacs — set  down  somewhere 
no  matter,  if  in  the  dead  of  December — to  know 
that  it  would  surely  come.  But  fairy-like  as  it  is, 
flitting  like  a  star-beam  over  the  dewy  shadows  of 
years,  nobody  can  spare  it,  and  we  look  upon  the 
many  times  these  words  have  beguiled  us. 


174 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


SUNSHINE. 

SUNSHINE  in  the  morning- 
Sunshine  all  the  day — 

Sunshine  in  the  school-room — 
Sunshine  out  at  play — 

Sunshine  in  the  workshop — 
Sunshine  in  the  square — 

Sunshine  in  the  green  lane — 
Sunshine  every  where. 

Oh !  'tis  mnshine  ever 


PROSE     AND    POETRY.  175 

Around,  within,  above, 
When  the  lips  speak  kindness, 

And  the  heart  breathes  love. 
Love  is  made  of  sunshine, 

Kindness  is  all  light, 
These  make  joy  of  sorrow, 

Noon-day  of  deep  night. 


OUE  SCHOOL-TIME  HOURS. 

THOUGH  summer's  golden  days  are  gone, 

And  autumn's  fruits  and  flowers, 
We  still  have  sunshine  glowing  here. 

Around  our  school-time  hours. 
And  though  we  loved  the  pearly  things, 

That  gem'd  the  gay  green  sod. 
'Tis  here  we  learn  that  like  ourselves, 

Their  beauty  comes  from  God. 

He  gives  the  winds  and  streams  their  songs, 

And  in  his  goodness  weaves. 
O'er  fragrant  fields,  and  forest  glades. 

Their  bright-hued  robes  of  leaves ; 
And  there  he  gives  our  young  hearts  joy, 

Among  their  rich  sweet  scenes  ; 
But  here  we  learn  in  school-time  hours, 

What  all  this  goodness  means. 

We  love  the  smiles  he  spreads  o'er  earth, 

For  this  to  all  they  teach, 
If  earth  is  fair,  how  fairer  far, 

Those  realms  we  mean  to  reach. 
We  thank  him,  then,  for  school-time  hours, 

And  for  the  Sabbaths  given, 
And  for  their  truths  that  lift  our  hearts 

From  earth's  joys  up  to  heaven  ; 


176 


MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


THE   HOUSEHOLD   "GOOD-NIGHT." 

«  n  OOD-NIGHT  !"  A  loud,  clear  voice  from  the 
vT  stairs  said  that — it  was  Tommy's.  "  Dood- 
night  1"  murmurs  a  little  something  from  the  trun- 
dle-bed—  a  little  something  we  call  Jenny,  that 
filled  a  large  place  in  the  centre  of  one  or  two 
pretty  large  hearts.  "  Good-night  1"  lisps  a  little 
fellow  in  a  plain  rifle  dress,  who  was  christened 
Willie  about  six  years  ago. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  177 

Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 

I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep  ; 

If  I  should  die  before  I  wake — 

and  the  small  bundle  in  the  trundle-bed  has  dropped 
off  to  sleep  ;  but  an  angel  will  finish  the  broken 
prayer,  and  it  will  go  up  sooner  than  many  long- 
winded  petitions  that  set  out  a  great  while  before  it. 

And  so  it  was  <%  Good  -night !"  all  around  the 
homestead  ;  and  very  sweet  music  it  made,  too,  in 
the  twilight,  and  very  pleasant  melody  it  makes 
now,  as  we  think  of  it,  for  it  was  not  yesterday,  nor 
the  day  before,  but  a  long  time  ago — so  long  that 
Tommy  is  Thomas  Somebody,  Esq.,  and  has  forgot- 
ten that  he  ever  was  a  boy,  and  wore  what  the 
bravest  and  richest  of  us  can  never  wear  but  once 
if  we  try — the  first  pair  of  boots  ;  so  long  ago  that 
Willie  must  stoop  when  he  crosses  the  threshold  ; 
so  long  ago  that  Jenny  has  gone  the  way  of  the  old 
prayer  she  was  saying — for  saying  another,  she  did 
as  before,  fell  asleep  as  she  said  it,  and  never 
waked  more.  Good  night  to  thee,  Jenny — good 
night ! 

And  so  it  was  good-night  all  around  the  house  ; 
and  the  children  had  gone  through  the  ivory  gate, 
always  left  a  little  ajar  for  them — through  into  the 
land  of  Dreams  ;  or  the  golden  one  they  call  "  Beau- 
tiful," into  the  land  of  Angels. 


178 


THE   LIFE  I'D  LIVE. 

THE  life  I'd  live  would  be  of  faith 

Upon  the  Son  of  God, 
Would  see  a  "  Thus  the  Lord  hath  said," 

To  guide  me  on  the  road. 

The  life  I'd  live  would  be  to  count 

All  earthly  gains  but  loss, 
Would  every  day  deny  myself, 

And  daily  take  my  cross. 

The  life  I'd  live  would  be  to  mark 

The  footsteps  Jesus  trod 
To  walk  with  care  the  narrow  road 

That  leads  the  soul  to  God. 

The  life  I'd  live  would  be  to  seek 

More  earnestly  his  face. 
Would  grow  in  knowledge  of  my  Lord, 

And  daily  grow  in  grace. 

The  life  I'd  live  would  be  to  live 

An  humble,  lowly  life, 
Far  from  the  world's  gay  revelry 

And  farther  from  its  strife. 

The  death  I'd  die  would  be  the  death 

That's  hidden  in  the  Lord, 
Dead  to  myself  and  dead  to  sin, 

But  living  through  his  word. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  179 


THE  DEA.TH  I'D   DIE. 

THE  death  I'd  die  would  be  to  die 

With  Jesus  as  my  friend, 
To  know  that  pains  and  doubts  and  fears 

Had  met  their  final  end. 

The  death  I'd  die  would  be  the  death 

The  Christian  soldier  dies  ; 
In  victory  to  yield  my  breath, 

And  soar  above  the  skies. 

The  death  I'd  die  would  be  to  sink 

Resignedly  to  rest, 
Reclining  on  my  Saviour's  arms, 

My  head  upon  his  breast. 

The  death  I'd  die  would  be  the  death 

Which  all  the  righteous  die, 
Blest  of  the  Lord,  their  labors  done, 

They  rest  with  him  on  high. 

The  death  I'd  die,  triumphantly 
With  my  last  breath  to  sing, 

Where  is  thy  victory,  0  grave  ? 
And  where,  0  Death,  thy  sting  ? 

The  death  I'd  die  would  be  to  have 

My  Saviour  near  my  bed, 
To  gently  close  my  eyes,  and  sleep, 

With  all  the  righteous  dead. 


180  MERRY'S    BOOK 


CHARADE. 

MY  first  is  a  letter  commanding  to  wed, 
Or  to  lift  your  sole  till  it  reaches  your  head  ; 
Nothing  worth  as  a  whole,  it  is  plain  to  all  men 
That  divided  in  halves,  it  is  equal  to  ten  ; 

My  second,  though  nothing,  compared  to  the  other, 
Is  worth  more  as  a  partner  than  its  double-faced  brother ; 
It  moans,  and  it  sighs,  and  when  joined  to  my  first, 
Pronounces  the  doom  of  the  sinner  accursed. 

My  third — you  will  find  his  whole  value  depends 
On  the  worth  and  position  of  neighbors  and  frieuds. 
And,  when  both  the  other  two  following  fair, 
Changes  doom  to  desire,  and  a  curse  to  a  prayer. 

My  fourth,  though  it  formeth  no  part  of  a  hundred, 
Shows  where  it  can  justly  and  evenly  be  sundered  ; 
•Tis  found  in  all  elements  every  where  present, 
Tis  fouud  in  all  seasons,  unpleasant  or  pleasant, 
Tis  the  chief  of  all  lands,  and  yet  cannot  wait 
On  continent,  hemisphere,  empire  or  state. 
Though  ne'er  in  Great  Britain  suspected  to  lower, 
Tis  the  heart  of  each  quarter  of  that  mighty  power  ; 
It  always  belonged  to  the  animal  race, 
In  the  mineral  kingdom  they  gave  it  a  place, 
And,  being  impartial,  they  could  not  deny 
The  vegetable  order  its  virtue  to  try ; 
And  yet,  since  creation,  it  never  was  known 
In  beast,  bird,  or  fish,  root,  branch,  stem  or  stone 

My  whole  you'll  find  growing  in  pasture  and  barns, 
Or  grown  in  coats,  carpets,  warm  blankets  and  yarns, 


PROSE    AND    POETKY.  181 

In  England,  in  Saxony,  France  and  old  Wales 

And  in  sundry  more  places  it  always  prevails. 

Of  quadrupedal  origin — still  it  is  known 

In  bipedal  families— oft  it's  been  shown  ; 

But  the  strangest  of  all  its  strange  forms  and  conditions 

If  seen  in  the  covering  of  sage  politicians. 


WHAT  IS   A  YEAK? 

WHAT  is  a  year  ?  Tis  but  a  wave 
On  life's  dark  rolling  stream. 

Which  is  so  quickly  gone  that  we 
Account  it  but  a  dream. 

'Tis  but  a  single,  earnest  throb 

Of  Time's  old  iron  heart, 
Which,  tireless,  now  is  strong  as  when 

It  first  with  life  did  start. 

What  is  a  year  ?  'Tis  but  a  curn 
Of  Time's  old  brazen  wheel  ; 

Or  but  a  page  upon  the  book 
Which  death  must  shortly  seal. 

Tis  but  a  step  upon  the  road 
Which  we  must  travel  o'er ; 

A  few  more  steps,  and  we  shall  walk 
Life's  weary  round  no  more. 


182 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 


THE    DOGS    IN    THE    PARLOR. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  183 


THE   DOGS. 

IN  an  extensive  spinning  and  dye-work,  in  a  town 
where  I  was  at  school  two  dogs  were  kept. 
One  of  them  was  a  rather  large  size,  the  other  quite 
small,  and  a  cross,  spiteful  little  animal  it  was.  I  do 
not  now  recollect  their  names,  for  it  is  almost  thirty 
years  since  I  knew  them  ;  but  I  shall  call  the  lar- 
gest one  Jowler,  and  the  other  Spot,  which  I  believe 
was  really  what  his  master  called  him.  Spot  was  a 
pretty  dog,  and  seemed  so  proud  of  being  taken  no- 
tice of,  and  allowed  to  rest  himself  on  the  office 
hearth-rug  beside  his  master,  and  sometimes  even  to 
sit  in  the  parlor  at  tea-time,  and  take  scraps  of  the 
little  children's  bread  or  cake,  that  one  would  sup- 
pose he  felt  at  liberty  to  behave  rudely  to  Jowler, 
for  he  would  snarl  and  bark  when  Jowler  came  near 
him,  and  seemed  to  want  to  keep  their  master's  love 
all  to  himself.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  no  one  was 
particularly  fond  of  poor  Jowler,  who  was  only  the 
yard  watch-dog,  kindly  treated,  but  nothing  more. 
One  day  that  Spot  was  rambling  about  the  yard,  he 
carelessly  missed  his  footing  on  a  narrow  path  be- 
tween the  dye-pits,  and  fell  into  one  of  them.  No 
person  was  near  at  the  time  ;  so  poor  Spot  had  to 
keep  swimming  from  side  to  side,  vainly  trying  to 
climb  out.  Alas  !  the  sides  were  steep  and  smooth  ; 
tkere  was  no  hold  for  even  a  little  dog's  paw  ;  and 
he  went  round  and  round,  and  across  again  and 


GEMS     OF 

again,  and  began  to  feel  quite  tired  of  the  cold 
water.  But  no  help  came,  though  he  cried  out  as 
loudly  as  he  could  in  his  dog-talk,  yelping  and  bark- 
ing in  a  manner  that  told  of  his  distress.  Now  the 
larger  dog  was  not  far  away,  and  no  doubt  he  had 
been  listening  all  the  while  :  but  Spot  had  never 
been  kind  to  him,  why  should  he  be  kind  to  Spot  ? 
Jowler  never  had  been  taught  the  k<  golden  rule  ;" 
never  had  been  bid  to  "  love  "  his  "  enemies  ;"  and 
poor  Spot  still  shouted  on,  though  now  in  a  weaker 
voice !  Just  then,  their  master,  who  was  a  kind, 
nice  gentleman,  entered  the  pit-yard,  having  heard 
Spot's  voice,  and  wondered  what  ailed  him  :  and 
there  he  saw  Jowler  quietly  walk  to  the  edge  of  the 
pit,  stretch  himself  at  full  length  along  the  narrow 
edge,  bend  over  the  side  of  the  pit — (the  water  so 
high  that  it  brought  Spot  just  within  his  reach) — 
catch  the  little  dog  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  and 
gently  carry  the  poor  dripping  thing  into  a  broad 
safe  place.  Was  not  this  good  in  Jowler  ?  And 
J&wler's  kind  master  did  not  forget  it  ;  but  always 
after  this  took  more  notice  of  the  faithful  watch-dog, 
and  saw  that  he  got  many  a  nice  bone  to  pick,  for 
the  sensible  way  he  saved  the  little  one. 

Now,  is  not  this  a  pretty  story  ?  and  would  not 
every  little  boy  and  girl  be  glad  to  do  a  kindness  in 
the  same  way  ?  Yes !  I  think  every  one  would, 
and  I  hope  you  will  all  try  to  do  so,  and  never  let 
any  one  suffer,  if  any  of  you  can  prevent  it. 

But  I  have  not  yet  told  you  what  I  think  is  the 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  185 

best  part  of  the  story  ;  it  is,  that  afterwards  Spot 
and  Jowler  were  the  best  friends  possible !  they  used 
to  walk  and  run  about,  and  sleep  together  ;  and 
Spot  quite  left  off  the  rude  habit  of  snarling  at  his 
good  friend  ;  so  that  Jowler  found  he  had  not  merely 
lost  an  enemy,  but  had  also  gained  a  friend. 

We  sometimes  find  that  little  kindnesses  can  be 
shown  by  little  children,  as  well  as  by  little  dogs, 
and  very  often  they  lead  to  great  benefits.  But, 
then,  we  must'not  always  look  to  the  results  ;  but 
do  right  simply  because  it  is  right,  and  because  God 
has  commanded  us  to  do  all  the  good  we  can  ;  and 
when  next,  dear  mamma,  or  any  one  else  who  will 
take  the  trouble,  is  at  liberty  to  get  the  New  Testa- 
ment, ask  her  to  show  you,  and  learn  each  of  you 
the  text  which  says,  "  To  him  that  knoweth  to  do 
good  and  doeth  it  not,  to  him  it  is  sin." 


"  BUT  did  I  tell  what  a  time  I  had  with  my  little 
John  ?» 

"  No  ,  what  was  it  ?" 

"  Why,  I  was  showing  him  the  martyrs  thrown  in 
to  the  lions,  and  was  talking  .very  solemnly  to  him, 
trying  to  make  him  feel  what  a  terrible  thing  it 
was.  '  Ma !  said  he  all  at  once,  l  0  ma  ! — just  look 
at  that  poor  little  lion  away  behind  there — he  ^n?t 
get  any  ; " 


186  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


COLD  WATER. 

You  may  boast  of  your  brandy  and  wine  as  you  please, 

Gin.  cider,  and  all  the  rest ; 
Cold  water  transcends  them  in  all  the  degrees, 

It  is  good — it  is  BETTER — 'tis  BEST, 

It  is  good  to  warm  you  when  you  are  cold, 

Good  to  cool  you  when  you  are  hot , 
It  is  good  for  the  young — it  is  good  for  the  old, 

Whatever  their  outward  lot. 

It  is  better  than  brandy  to  quicken  the  blood, 

It  is  better  than  gin  for  the  colic , 
It  is  better  than  wine  for  the  generous  mood, 

Than  whiskey  or  rum  for  a  frolic. 

Tis  the  best  of  all  drinks  for  quenching  your  thirst, 
Twill  revive  you  for  work,  or  for  play  ; 

In  sickness  or  health,  'tis  the  best  and  the  first — 
Oh  1  try  it— you'll  find  it  will  pay. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  187 


A  "STRANGE"  PREACHER.^r 

f  * 

HIS  name  was  Strange.  Many  will  think  his 
conduct  was  strange  also.  He  was  a  zealous 
preacher,  and  a  sweet  singer.  Nothing  gave  him 
so  much  pleasure  as  to  go  about  the  country  preach- 
ing and  singing.  A  benevolent  gentleman,  well  off 
in  worldly  goods,  desiring  to  make  him  and  his 
family  comfortable  in  their  declining  years,  gener- 
ously presented  him  a  title-deed  for  three  hundred 
and  twenty  acres  of  land.  Strange  accepted  the  do- 
nation with  thankfulness,  and  went  on  his  way, 
preaching  and  singing  as  he  went.  But  after  a  few 
months  he  returned,  and  requested  his  generous 
friend  to  take  the  title-deed.  Surprised  at  the  re- 
quest, the  gentleman  inquired  — 

"  Is  there  any  flaw  in  it  ?" 

"  Not  the  slightest." 

"Is  not  the  land  good  V 

"  First  rate." 

"  Isn't  it  healthy  ?" 

"  None  more  so." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  wish  me  to  take  it  back  ? 
It  will  be  a  comfortable  home  for  you  when  you 
grow  old,  and  something  for  your  wife  and  children, 
if  you  should  be  faken  away." 

"  Why,  I'll  tell  you.  Ever  since,  I've  lost  my  en- 
joyment for  singing.  I  can't  sing  my  favorite  hynm 
with  a  good  conscience  any  longer. 


188  KERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

"  What  is  that  ?" 
"  This  : 

"  '  No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess, 
Nor  cottage  in  the  wilderness, 
A  poor  wayfaring  man. 

I  dwell  awhile  in  tents  below, 
Or  gladly  wander  to  and  fro, 
Till  I  my  Canaan  gain. 

Yonder's  my  house  and  portion  fair, 
My  treasures  and  my  heart  are  there, 
And  my  abiding  home.' 

"There!"  said  Strange,  "I'd  rather  sing  that 
hymn  than  own  America.  I'd  trust  the  Lord  to 
take  care  of  my  wife  and  children.5' 

He  continued  singing  and  preaching,  and  preach- 
ing and  singing  ;  and  the  Lord,  said  the  lecturer, 
did  take  care  of  him,  and  his  shildren  after  him. 


NOTHING  is  more  easy  than  to  grow  rich.  It  is 
only  to  trust  nobody,  befriend  none  ;  to  heap  inter- 
est upon  interest,  cent  upon  cent ;  to  destroy  all  the 
finer  feelings  of  nature  and  be  rendered  mean,  mis- 
erable, and  be  despised  for  some  twenty  or  thirty 
years,  and  riches  will  come  as  sure  as  disease,  disap- 
pointment, and  a  miserable  death. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  189 


FARMER'S   BOYS. 

OUT  in  every  tempest, 

Out  in  every  gale, 
Buffeting  the  weather 

Wind,  and  storm,  and  hail ; 
In  the  meadow  mowing, 

In  the  shady  wood, 
Letting  in  the  sunlight 

Where  the  tall  oaks  stood. 
Every  fitting  moment, 

Each  skillful  hand  employs — 
Bless  me !  were  there  ever 

Things  like  farmers'  boys  ? 

Though  the  palm  be  callous, 

Holding  fast  the  plow, 
The  round  cheek  is  ruddy, 

And  the  open  brow 
Has  no  lines  and  furrows 

Wrought  by  evil  hours, 
For  that  heart  keeps  wholesome, 

Trained  in  Nature's  bowers, 
Healthy,  hearty  pastime, 

The  spirit  never  cloys 
Heaven  bless  the  manly 

Honest  farmers'  boys ! 

At  the  merry  husking, 

At  the  apple  bee, 
How  their  hearts  run  over 

With  genial  harmless  glee ; 
How  the  country  maidens, 

Blush  with  conscious  bliss, 


190  MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 

At  the  love-word  whispered, 
With  a  parting  kiss ; 

Then  the  winter  evenings, 
With  their  social  joys ! 

Bless  me !  they  are  pleasant 
Spent  with  farmers'  boys. 


ADDRESS   TO  LAKE  ERY. 

Mity  stream.     How  your  bosom  swells  and  pants, 
And  how  you  rip  things.     How  wet  you  look,  eh ! 
What  "  airs"  you  put  on  when  you  get  to  blow- 
Ing  !    Yes — in  September,  how  proud  you  are 
'Cause  you  can  raise  the  wind,  and  kick  up  rows 
And  fight  the  shore,  and  tear  away  lumber 
Yards !  (that  is  you  used  to  onct.)     But  you're  stopt. 
How  do  you  like  that  breakwater,  you  old  fluid  ? 
Doesn't  that  keep  you  respectable,  and  put 
Straps  on  your  pants.     Don't  that  stick  in  your  crop. 
Didn't  they  give  you  "  piles  "  when  they  put  that  there. 
*  Why  don't  you  try  to  fill  up  the  canal, 
I  should  think  you  would  catch  cold  bein  made 
Of  such  damp  stuff. 

Who  are  you.  any  how  ? 

What's  going  to  come  of  you  ?    You're  found  out — 
You  are  going  to  leak  out  over  the  Falls. 
That's  it !  You  needn't  be  uppish  cause  you're 
Nothing  but  rain  water,  in  spite  of  your  bars 
You  have  to  borry  from  other  Lakes  to  keep 
Yourself  from  gettin  dry.     Hey — you  old  bankrupt, 
Mity  stream — adoo ! 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  191 

THE   MERRY  HEART 

'Tis  well  to  have  a  merry  heart, 

However  short  we  stay  ; 
There's  wisdom  in  a  merry  heart, 

Whate'er  the  world  may  say. 
Philosophy  may  lift  its  head 

And  find  out  many  a  flaw, 
But  give  me  the  philosopher 

That's  happy  with  a  straw. 

If  life  but  brings  us  happiness, 

It  brings  us,  we  are  told, 
What's  hard  to  buy,  though  rich  ones  try 

With  all  their  heaps  of  gold ; 
Then  laugh  away,  let  others  say 

Whate'er  they  will  of  mirth, 
Who  laughs  the  most  may  truly  boast 

He's  got  the  wealth  of  earth. 

There's  beauty  in  the  merry  heart, 

A  moral  beauty,  too ; 
It  shows  the  heart's  an  honest  heart, 

That's  paid  each  man  his  due  ; 
And  lent  a  share  of  what's  to  spare, 

Despite  of  wisdom's  fears, 
And  makes  the  cheek  less  sorrow  speak, 

The  eye  weep  fewer  tears. 

The  sun  may  shroud  itself  in  cloud, 

The  tempest  wrath  begin  ; 
t  finds  a  spark  to  cheer  the  dark, 

Its  sunlight  is  within  ; 
Then  laugh  away,  let  others  say 

Whate'er  they  will  of  mirth  ; 
Who  laughs  the  most  may  truly  boast 

He's  got  the  wealth  of  earth. 


192 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 


LITTLE    RED    RIDING-HOOD. 


PROSE     AND     POETRF.  193 

LITTLE   RED   RIDING  HOOD. 

TjWERYBODY  has  read  the  story  of  this  wonder- 
JjJ  ful  child.  Of  all  the  children  of  romance,  she 
is  perhaps  the  greatest  favorite  with  very  young 
readers.  Can  any  one  tell  who  wrote  the  story, 
and  what  gave  rise  to  it  ? 

Little  Red  Riding  Hood  was  a  very  good  girl. 
She  was  kind  to  every  one,  and  lored  everything. 
She  was  very  kind  to  her  old  grandmother.  She 
was  willing  to  do  anything  for  her  father  and  moth- 
er. She  was  kind  to  the  wasp,  and  to  the  torn-tit, 
and  to  the  poor  old  woman  whom  she  found  seeking 
for  water-cresses.  She  was  even  kind  to  the  wolf, 
who,  while  men  were  near  to  protect  her,  appeared 
very  amiable.  But  she  was  very  weak  and  silly  in 
believing  what  the  wolf  said,  and  holding  conversa- 
tion with  him.  And  bitterly  the  poor  child  paid  for 
it.  She  lost  her  good  old  grandmother,  and  would 
have  lost  hep  own  life  too,  had  not  the  friends 
which  her  kindness  had  made  for  her  been  near  at 
hand  to  save  her  from  the  lying  wolf. 

Good  children  must  beware  of  bad  company. 
"  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners,"  says 
the  Bible,  and  flatterers  are  never  true  friends. 
They  can  not  be  safely  trusted.  You  may  be  kind 
to  everybody,  even  to  the  wicked,  and  to  those  who 
injure  you.  You  can  forgive  them,  and  do  them  all 
the  good  you  can.  But  you  need  not  believe  what 
they  say,  nor  suffer  yourself  to  be  led  astray  by 
them. 


194  MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


THE   CABIN  BOY. 

K  T)LEASE  sir,  don't  you  want  a  cabin  boy  ?" 

_L  "  I  do  want  a  cabin  boy,  my  lad,  but  what's 
that  to  you  ?  A  little  chap  like  you  ain't  fit  for  the 
berth." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I'm  real  strong.  I  can  do  a  great  deal 
of  work,  if  I  aint  so  very  old." 

"  But  what  are  you  here  for  ?  You  don't  look 
like  a  city  boy.  Run  away  from  home,  hey  ?'; 

"  Oh  no  indeed  sir  ;  my  father  died,  and  my  moth- 
er is  very  poor,  and  I  want  to  do  something  to  help 
her.  She  let  me  come." 

"  Well,  sonny,  where  are  your  letters  of  recom- 
mendation ?  CanH  take  any  boys  without  those." 

Here  was  a  damper.  Willie  had  never  thought 
of  its  being  necessary  to  have  letters  from  his  minis- 
ter, or  his  teachers,  or  from  some  proper  person,  to 
prove  to  strangers  that  he  was  a,n  honest  and  good 
boy.  Now  what  should  he  do.  He  stood  in  deep 
thought,  the  captain  meanwhile  curiously  watching 
the  workings  of  his  expressive  face.  At  length  he 
put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  and  drew  out  his  little 
Bible,  and  without  one  word  put  it  into  the  cap- 
tain's hand.  The  captain  opened  it  to  the  blank 
page  and  read  : 

"  Willie  Graham,  presented  as  a  reward  for  regu- 
lar and  punctual  attendance  at  Sabbath  School,  and 


PROSE    AND    POETRY.  195 

for  his    blameless   conduct  there  and   elsewhere. 
From  his  Sunday  School  Teacher.'7 

Captain  McLeod  was  not  a  pious  man,  but  he 
could  not  consider  the  case  before  him  with  a  heart 
unmoved.  The  little  fatherless  child,  standing  hum- 
bly before  him,  referring  him  to  the  testimony  of  his 
Sunday  School  teacher,  as  it  was  given  in  his  little 
Bible,  touched  a  tender  spot  in  the  heart  of  the  no- 
ble seamen,  and,  clapping  Willie  heartily  on  the 
shoulder,  he  said  :  "  You  are  the  boy  for  me  ;  you 
shall  sail  with  me  ;  and  if  you  are  as  good  a  lad  as  I 
think  you  are,  your  pockets  shan't  be  empty,  when 
you  go  back  to  your  mother." 


"WHO  made  you  ?"  inquired  a  lady  teacher  of  a 
lubberly  boy,  who  had  lately  joined  her  class. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  he, 

"  Don't  know !  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self— a  boy  fourteen  years  old  !  Why  there's  little 
Dicky  Filton — he  is  only  three — he  can  tell,  I  dare 
say.  Come  here,  Dickey  ;  who  made  you  ?" 

"  Dod,"  lisped  the  infant  prodigy. 

"  There,"  said  the  teacher  triumphantly,  "  I  knew 
he  would  remember," 

"  Well,  he  oughter,"  said  the  stupid  boy,  "  taint 
but  a  little  while  ago  since  he  was  made  !" 


196 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OP 


J! 


THE   REQUEST. 

K  TjlATHER,  may  1  go  down  on  the  river,  and 

J_  hunt  to-day  ?"  asked  a  blue-eyed  boy  of  about 
fifteen  summers  of  his  father. 

"  Roger,  don't  you  know  that  I  don't  want  you  to 
go  so  far  from  home  to  hunt.  I  tell  you  now,  never 
go  there  unless  I  or  some  other  grown  person  ac- 
company's  you — and  not  then  without  my  consent." 

"  Why,  father,  there  is  not  no  harm  on  the  river 
is  there,  why  don't  you  want  me  to  go  there  ?" 

"  Never  mind,  I  have  reasons  ;  only  you  keep 
away  from  there." 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  197 

Roger's  father  then  left  the  house,  and  went  up  in 
town,  where  he  generally  passed  his  time.  Soon 
after,  about  half  a  dozen  boys  stopped  at  the  house 
of  Roger. 

"  Halloa,  Roger,  get  your  gun  and  come  on." 

"  Father  won't  let  me  go  a  hunting  on  the  river," 
replied  Roger. 

"  Well,  come  ahead,  we  aint  going  to  hunt  on  the 
river,"  said  one,  winking  at  the  others. 

Roger  took  his  gun  and  set  out  with  the  boys. 
Presently  one  of  the  boys  asked  one  of  his  comrades 
how  much  farther  it  was  to  the  river. 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Roger,  "  I  thought  you  wasn't 
going  to  hunt  on  the  river  ?" 

"  Well,  we  aint  going  to  hunt  on  the  river,  but  on 
its  banks,  ha,  ha,  ha." 

Roger  persisted  against  going,  but  they  at  last 
prevailed  on  him  to  accompany  them,  by  laughing  at 
him,  calling  him  silly  names,  and  telling  him  his 
father  would  never  find  it  out. 

While  the  boys  were  hunting,  Roger  discovered  a 
turkey's  track  leading  up  the  river.  Slipping  off 
from  his  comrades  without  being  discovered,  he  fol- 
lowed the  track.  After  going  about  half  a  mile  up 
the  river,  looking  ahead  he  saw  aboiit  two  hundred 
yards  up  the  river,  a  turkey  seated  on  a  fallen  tree. 
The  turkey  had  not  seen  him,  he  kept  on,  taking 
care  to  keep  out  of  the  turkey's  sight.  Finding  that 
his  shoes  made  too  much  fuss  he  pulled  them  off. 
He  was  about  to  fire  at  the  turkey,  when  he  felt  a 


198  MERRY'S   GEMS    OP 

sharp  sting  in  his  foot ;  looking  down,  to  his  horror, 
he  saw  a  large  Mockason  snake  under  his  feet.  He 
had  put  his  foot  upon  it,  and  it  bit  him.  He  shot 
the  snake,  and  tying  a  string  tight  around  his  leg 
he  ran  towards  home.  He  soon  grew  too  weak  to 
run.  He  cried  for  help,  but  was  far  from  any 
house.  He  began  to  get  so  weak  that  he  could  not 
stand,  he  threw  down  his  gun  and  crawled.  At  last 
he  came  to  a  road,  and  being  exhausted,  he  sank 
down  insensible.  He  had  been  bitten  in  the  bottom 
of  his  foot  by  a  poisonous  snake.  When  he  again 
woke  to  consciousness,  he  was  upon  a  bed  in  his 
father's  house.  He  had  been  found  by  a  traveler 
soon  after  he  fell  exhausted  in  the  road.  He  had 
escaped  death  indeed  :  but  he  had  lost  one  of  his 
limbs,  which  had  to  be  cut  off  to  prevent  his  death. 
He  had  a  hair-breadth  escape  from  the  monster 
death,  and  was  rendered  a  cripple  for  life,  by  one 
act  of  disobedience. 


WHEN  ONE  WON'T  QUARREL,  TWO   CANT. 

WHEN  boys  are  rude, 

Or.  in  quarrelsome  mood, 
Throw  stones,  or  strike,  or  fight — 

To  be  gentle  and  kind 

Is  the  way,  you'll  find, 
To  set  matters  quickly  right, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY. 


199 


f 


BEILLIANTS. 

THERE  is  dew  for  the  flow'ret, 
And  honey  for  the  bee, 

And  bowers  for  the  wild  bird, 
And  love  for  you  and  me ! 


200  MEERYS     GEMS     OP 

There  are  tears  for  the  many, 
And  pleasures  for  the  few ; 

But  let  the  world  pass  on.  dear, 
There's  love  for  me  and  you  I 

There's  care  that  will  not  leave  us, 
And  pain  that  will  not  flee  ; 

But  in  our  hearts  unaltered. 
Sits  Love,  'tween  you  and  me ! 

Our  love,  it  ne'er  was  reckoned, 
Yet  good  it  is,  and  true; 

It's  half  the  world  to  me,  love, 
It's  all  the  world  to  vou ! 


LITTLE  THINGS. 

Do  something  for  each  other — 
Though  small  the  help  may  be, 

There's  comfort  oft  in  little  things 
Far  more  than  others  see  1 

It  takes  the  sorrow  from  the  eye, 

It  leaves  the  world  less  bare, 
If  but  a  friendly  hand  come  nigh 

When  friendly  hands  are  rare ! 

Then  cheer  the  heart  which  toils  each  hour, 

Yet  finds  it  hard  to  live ; 
And  though  but  little  in  our  power, 

That  little  let  us  give. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  201 

THE  SUBLIME   OF  NONSENSE. 

BY  YOUNG   ORATOR   CLIMAX. 

MOST  illustrious  litterati,  and  coadjutors  : — On 
this  imposing  and  awful  occasion,  in  the  midst 
of  this  mighty  and  terrible  commotion  of  vast  and 
capacious  intellects,  I  usher  myself  into  your  august 
presence. 

We  are  now  witnessing  the  eruptive  thunder  of 
the  human  mind  ;  the  ex-an-them'-a-tous  and  prodi- 
gious peals  ever  and  anon  bursting  in  the  concave 
stellar  deep. 

We  hear  the  reverberating  echo  from  the  craggy 
summits  of  the  eternal  mountains ,  My  magnificient 
compeers,  I  shall  pour  forth  the  pure  indivisible 
ef-flo-res'-en-ses — the  huge  massive  performances — 
and  the  transcendent  di-aph'-a-nous  and  perspicuous 
cog-i-ta-tions  of  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  lofty 
geniuses  that  ever  dwelt  superincumbent  amid  the 
rich- foliation  and  six-penny  chicanery  of  our  terres- 
trial emanation. 

My  di-das'-cal-ic  faculties  have  expanded  with  sin- 
gular pellucidness,  and  with  a  wonderful  concatena- 
tion. 

The  number  and  variety  of  my  ideas  are  incom- 
mensurable. 

The  flow  of  my  intellectual  efflux  is  incomparably 
tall  and  turbulent. 

My  mind  is  hop-tu-cap'-su-lar — he-ro-i-eomical  and 


202  MERRY'S    GEMS    OF 

profound — free  from  the  remotest  approximation  to 
egotistical  ostentation  ;  humble,  argumentative  and 
insinuating.  I  delight  in  bold  burning  and  sublime 
metaphors  and  met-an'-y-miss  in  the  spiritual  sciences 
of  me-tem'-psy-cho-sis  met-a-pas  -co-py  and  sci-ag-ra- 
phy.  I  delight  to  revel  amid  postulates  an-no-to'- 
tions  on  all  oec-u-men'-i-cal  om-ni-per-cip'-i-an-ces. 
The  pandiculation  of  the  universe  is  seen  by  perlus- 
tration  and  per-i'-grin-a-tion.  I  wish  to  make  a 
short  comprehensive  oration,  full  of  great  principles 
and  unsophisticated  truths. 

I  desire  not  to  blot  my  production  with  a  trans- 
cursionary  discussion  of  the  doctrine  of  transelem- 
entation  ;  but  introducing  the  utmost  latitudinarian- 
ism  into  this  wonderfully  clear  exergesis  of  the 
mysterious  tide  of  human  affairs.  I  desire  to  give 
my  inind  sea-room  and  expansion  —  or  soar  aloft 
amid  the  radiations  and  lofty  effluxions  and  gener- 
alizations of  the  master  spirits  of  the  age.  Standing 
here  on  the  grand  panorama  of  life,  gazing  aloft 
amidst  the  effulgent  constellations  of  terrestrial  im- 
mortal worthies,  my  soul  is  dilated  to  the  extreme 
limits  of  metaphysical  extension  and  restriction. 

I  feel  the  imposing  and  awful  grandeur  of  my 
existence.  I  feel  the  high  impulses  stirring  within  my 
corruptible  tabernacle  ;  the  psychological  movements 
of  the  mysterious  spiritual  machinery  ;  the  impres- 
sive prognostications  of  immortality  and  the  self- 
evident  nonsemiperspicuous  manifestations  of  the 
mental  appurtenances. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  203 

I  feel  the  lofty  sublimity,  the  towering  glory,  the 
immense  perfection  of  this  glorious  being. 

Indeed  I  am  filled  with  floods  of  overpowering 
emotions  as  I  leave  this  listening  audience. 


NOT  TIME  ENOUGH. 

NOT  time  enough?  So  the  gilt  edges  of  the 
Bible  remain  untarnished,  and  it  leaves  its  own 
profile  of  dust  on  the  table.  Not  time  enough  to 
study  its  teachings  !  But  there  is  time  enough  for 
other  things. 

Time  enough  to  coil  around  the  soul  the  web  of 
wealth,  which,  when  completed,  forms  its  shroud. 

Time  enough  to  amuse  the  fancy,  to  excite  pas- 
sion, to  trifle  with  time,  and  to  banish  reflection. 

Time  enough  to  simmer  away  afternoon  after 
afternoon  in  the  maudlin  sympathy  of  romantic  sen- 
timentalism,  until  the  heart,  in  its  voluptuous  impo- 
tence, becomes  incapable  of  real  love  to  God  or 
man! 

Time  enough  to  lay  plot  upon  plot  and  scheme 
upon  scheme  for  the  gratification  of  ambition  or 
vanity  I 

Time  enough  to  be  sick,  though  then,  when  the 
heart  is  troubled,  and  the  body  faint,  and  the  head 
sluggish,  there  is  indeed  not  time  enough  to  repent ! 

TIME  ENOUGH  TO  DIE. 


204 


MERRY'S    GEMS    o 


ALL  ABOUT  EYES. 

Blue  eyes  are  tender, 
Blue  eyes  are  true, 

Blue  eyes  are  lovely — 
Their  smiles  ever  new. 

Brown  eyes  are  merry, 
Brown  eyes  are  mild, 

Brown  eyes  are  beautiful 
As  a  fair  child. 

Brown  eyes  are  dazzling 
When  their  orbs  roll ; 

Brown  eyes  speak  volumes 
Deep  from  the  soul. 

But  black  eyes  are  witching 
Black  eyes  are  bright, 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  205 

Black  eyes  are  the  index 
Of  the  souls  light. 

Black  eyes  are  glancing, 

Black  eyes  are  sweet, 
Black  eyes  keep  dancing, 

When  other's  they  meet. 


ANGRY   WORDS. 

ANGRY  words  are  lightly  spoken, 

In  a  rash  and  thoughtless  hour  ; 
Brightest  links  of  life  are  broken 

By  their  deep,  insidious  power. 
Hearts  inspired  by  warmest  feeling, 

Ne'er  before  by  anger  stirr'd, 
Oft  are  rent  past  human  healing 

By  a  single  angry  word. 

Poisoned  drops  of  care  and  sorrow, 

Bitter  Poison  drops  are  they, 
Weaving  for  the  coming  morrow 

Saddest  memories  of  to  day ! 
Angry  words,  oh  !  let  them  never 

From  the  tongue  unbridled  slip  ; 
May  the  heart's  best  impulse  ever 

Check  them  ere  they  soil  the  lip ! 

Love  is  much  too  pure  and  holy, 

Friendship  is  too  sacred  far, 
For  a  moment's  reckless  folly, 

Thus  to  desolate  and  mar. 
Angry  words  are  lightly  spoken, 

Bitterest  thoughts  are  rashly  stirred, 
Brightest  links  of  life  are  broken, 

By  a  single  angry  word. 


206 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


OUR  LITTLE  ANGEL. 

SOME  one  has  said,  and  wisely  too,  that  "  there  is 
an  angel  in  every  house,"  though  oft  its  inmates 
know  it  not.  Methought  the  other  day  as  I  grazed 
on  the  face  of  "  our  Bertie,"  sleeping  in  quiet  inno- 
cence in  his  cradle  bed,  that  surely,  an  angel  had 
taken  up  its  abode  with  us.  Who  can  gaze  upon 
the  sweet  face  and  rose-bud  lips  of  such  a  sleeper 
without  feeling  as  if  in  the  presence  chamber  of  the 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  207 

Diety,  and  that  they  are  looking  into  an  angel's 
face,  so  innocent,  so  pure,  so  holy  : — a  sweet  lesson 
of  immortality  to  all : — its  young  soul  seems  visible 
in  each  curve  of  its  tiny  fingers,  each  smile  on  its 
infant  lips. 

'The  skeptic  must  here,  in  this  sanctuary  of  purity, 
cease  to  cavil,  the  scoffer  be  hushed  to  silence, 
and  the  oaths  of  the  profane  all  unuttered  chill. 

Even  "  Old  Pete/7  rough  and  untutored  as 

he  is,  and  so  wicked  too,  halts  while  passing  the 
door,  to  look  on  "  our  Bertie,"  exclaiming,  "  the 
little  angel."  Mother, — thine  is  a  holy  calling,  a 
sacred  trust  is  committed  to  thy  keeping  in  that 
darling  boy,  "  our  Bertie,"  as  you  fondly  call  him. 
That  beautiful,  stainless  soul  is  given  thee  to  guard, 
to  keep  : — that  angel,  for  thee  to  train  for  God  and 
Heaven.  Ponder  well  thine  every  word  and  look, 
thine  every  pressure  of  its  tiny  form,  remembering 
that  they  each  leave  their  impress  on  an  angel's 
wing. 

Another  little  wave 

Upon  the  sea  of  life  : 
Another  soul  to  save, 

Amid  its  toil  and  strife, 

Two  more  little  hands 

To  work  for  good  or  ill ; 
Two  more  little  eyes  ; 

Another  little  will. 

Two  more  little  feet 
To  walk  the  dusty  road  ; 


208  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

To  choose  where  two  paths  meet, 
The  narrow  or  the  broad. 

Another  heart  to  love, 
Receiving  love  again 

And  so  the  baby  came, 
A  thing  of  joy  and  pain. 


NUMBER   OF   STARS. 

OF  the  stars  thousands  are  visible  to  the  naked 
eye  and  millions  are  discovered  by  the  teles- 
cope. Sir  John  Herschell  calculates  that  about  five 
and  a  half  millions  of  stars  are  visible  enough  to  be 
distinctly  counted  in  a  twenty  feet  reflector  in  both 
hemispheres,  and  thinks  that  the  actual  number  is 
much  greater.  His  illustrious  father  estimated  on 
one  occasion  that  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
thousand  stars  passed  through  the  field  of  his  forty 
foot  reflector  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  This  would 
give  twelve  millions  for  the  entire  circuit  of  the 
heavens  in  a  single  telescopic  zone  ;  and  this  esti- 
mate was  made  under  the  assumption  that  the  nebu- 
lae were  masses  of  luminous  matter,  not  yet  conden- 
sed suns.  But  with  the  iuerease  of  instrumental 
power,  especially  under  the  mighty  grasp  of  Lord 
Rosse's  gigantic  reflector  and  the  great  reflector  at 
Pulkova  and  Cambridge,  the  most  irresolvable  of 
these  nebulae  has  given  way  ;  and  the  better  opin- 
ion now  is  that  every  one  of  them  is  a  galaxy,  like 
our  own  milky  way  composed  of  millions  of  suns. 


PROSE    -AND     POETRY.  209 


VOICES. 

LISTEN  to  the  roses, 

Listen  to  the  rills, 
Listen  to  the  breezes 

Whispering  o'er  the  hills. 
They  have  each  a  burden 

For  the  willing  ear, 
Saying  to  the  listener, 

God  is  ever  near. 
Listen  to  the  rain  drops, 

Listen  to  the  dew. 
Listen  to  the  sunshine 

Whispering  to  you. 
They  are  spirit  voices, 

Speaking  to  the  heart — 
Saying,  God  is  near  thee 

Wheresoe'er  thou  art. 


BY-AND-BY. 

THERE'S  a  little  mischief-making 

Elfin,  who  is  ever  nigh, 
Thwarting  every  undertaking, 

And  his  name  is  By-and-By. 
What  we  ought  to  do  this  minute, 

"  Will  be  better  done,"  he'll  cry, 
"  If  to-morrow  we  begin  it ;" 

"  Put  it  off!"  says  By-and-By. 
Those  who  heed  his  treacherous  wooing. 

Will  his  faithless  guidance  rue ; 
What  we  always  put  off  doing, 

Clearly  we  shall  never  do. 


210 


MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


AN  EVENING  WITH  PAPA. 

«  TJERE  comes  PaPa  !"  exclaimed  little  Kate  El- 
XI  ton,  who  had  been  standing  sometime  in  the 
library  window  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  papa's 
hat  when  he  should  come  home  from  the  city.  Ed- 
ward I  Susie  lv  she  continued,  '*  Here's  papa  coming, 
make  haste  and  come  in.  This  is  papa's  evening 
with  us  you  know." 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  211 

Edward  and  Susie  were  soon  in  the  study  ;  and 
when  Mr.  Elton  had* seated  himself  comfortably  in 
the  easy  chair,  her  little  voice  was  heard  again  be- 
seechingly, "  Now,  papa,  a  very  pretty  story  to- 
night, if  you  please !" 

"  A  very  pretty  story,  Katie  ?"  replied  Mr.  Elton, 
"  why,  I  think  I  have  almost  got  to  an  end  of  all  my 
stories.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  happened  as  I  was 
coming  home  to  night?" 

"  Yes,  do  papa  I"  said  Edward. 

"As  I  was  passing  Lawrence  Academy,"  began 
Mr.  Elton,  "  the  boys  were  just  turning  out,  and  one 
great  boy  was  pushing  right  and  left  with  such 
violence  that  finally  he  threw  one  little  fellow 
against  the  iron  gates,  and  hurt  him  very  much. 
Upon  this  another  boy  came  up,  his  eyes  flashing 
with  anger,  and  shouted,  '  I  say,  Tom  Harton,  we 
won't  allow  you  to  be  always  pushing  about  in  this 
way  ;  you're  always  knocking  boys  down  ;  you've 
hurt  Fred  Dinley  very  much.  I  shall  tell  the  Doc- 
tor of  you.' 

"  '  You  tell  the  Doctor  !  you  cowardly  fellow,'  re- 
plied Tom  Harton,  '  what  business  is  it  of  yours, 
pray?  You  are  always  bullying  me,  and  I  won't 
stand  it.  We'll  see  which  of  us  is  master  1'  And  he 
stood  erect  in  a  menacing  attitude,  which  the  other 
boy,  whom  I  recognised  as  Will  Langford,  instantly 
assumed  likewise.  Mutual  upbraiding  was  begin- 
ning again,  and  I  doubt  much  if  it  would  have 


212  MERRY'S   GEMS  OF 

ended  without  blows,  if  I  had  not  gone  up  and 
made  peace." 

"  How  did  you  manage  that,  papa  ?"  said  Kate. 

"  It  was  no  easy  matter,  I  assure  you,  Katie. 
When  I  stepped  forward,  I  was  met  by  such  a 
storm  of  complaints  of  rudeness  from  the  one  side, 
and  insolence  from  the  other,  that  I  feared  I  should 
make  but  little  way.  At  length  I  thought  I  would 
relate  to  them  a  little  incident  which  I  witnessed 
last  week.  I  was  standing  in  front  of  Beechbank 
House  when  I  espied  through  the  bars  of  the  garden 
gate  a  frolicksome  kitten  at  play.  In  its  gambols  it 
chanced  to  come  near  a  great  whiskered  Tabbie, 
who  apparently  did  not  relish  any  such  antics  near 
his  dignified  self ;  for  he  gave  a  hiss  and  a  growl, 
darted  out  a  great  pair  of  claws,  patted  and 
scratched  poor  Kitty,  and  sent  her  away  mewing. 
Presently,  however,  she  came  back,  bringing  with 
her  her  mother,  a  handsome  white  cat  with  a  splen- 
did tail,  and  the  white  cat  and  Tabbie  began  a  reg- 
ular fight,  whilst  Kitty  sat  by  watching  the  pro- 
ceedings with  evident  satisfaction. 

When  I  had  finished,  I  asked  the  boys  if  they  did 
not  think  their  conduct  in  provoking  and  threaten- 
ing one  another  bore  great  resemblance  to  the  selfish 
and  revengeful  spirit  of  the  cats.  They  were  silent, 
but  attentive  ;  so  I  talked  to  them  a  little  longer, 
and  told  them  that  it  was  a  very  mistaken  idea  to 
suppose  that  there  was  anything  really  manly  in 
acting  in  any  way  contrary  to  the  true  dignity  of 


KOSB     AND     POETRY.  213 

man's  nature,  which  consisted  in  his  cultivating  all 
the  higher  and  nobler  faculties  with  which  he  was 
so  richly  endowed,  and  which  enjoined  him  to  be 
loving  and  gentle  and  considerate  towards  all.  The 
boys  began  to  look  rather  ashamed,  and  Tom  Har- 
ton  muttered  something  about  not  having  meant  to 
throw  Dinley  down,  and  Langford  said  in  a  very 
different  tone  of  voice  from  the  one  which  he  had 
before  assumed,  '  I  dare  say  you  did  not,  but  we 
should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Harton,  if  you 
would  endeavor  to  be  a  little  more  polite.'  This 
produced  a  thaw ;  peace  was  soon  restored,  and  I 
came  home. 


A  LITTLE  Swedish  girl,  while  walking  with  her 
father  on  a  starry  night,  absorbed  in  contemplation 
of  the  skies,  being  asked  of  what  she  was  thinking, 
replied,  "  I  was  thinking,  if  the  wrong  side  of  heav- 
en is  so  glorious,  what  must  the  right  side  be  !"  Of 
course,  the  wrong  side,  with  her,  was  that  which 
looked  on  our  lone  and  revolted  earth.  Surely,  the 
right  side,  that  looks  towards  the  throne  of  God  and 
the  Lamb,  must  be  beautiful  exceedingly  I  We  do 
not  often  meet  with  a  thought  so  poetical  and  pre- 
cious as  this. 


214 


MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


SONG  OF  THE  TREE-TOAD. 

"  Once  there  was  a  tree-toad 

Who  lived  in  a  tree  ; 
He  cared  for  nobody, 

And  nobody  cared  for  he." 
Old  Song. 

Up  in  a  tree 

Right  merrily, 

At  close  of  day 

I  sing  away 
A  tune  of  my  own  composition  ; 

I  don't  care  a  fly 

For  passers  by, 

But  keep  right  along 

With  my  beautiful  song — 
A  solo  without  any  transition. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  215 

Some  pretend  to  complain 

They  don't  like  my  strain, 
And  think  there  should  be  variation  ; 

But  I  continue  still 

With  the  same  old  trill, 
And  shall  do  so,  in  spite  of  all  creation  I 

What  do  I  care, 

Up  here  in  the  air, 
For  the  opinion  of  other  people  ; 

I  am  not  dependent 

Upon  any  attendant ; 
I'm  as  high  as  any  church  steeple  I 

Some  think  that  my  song 

Is  a  hair  too  long, 
And  suggest  now  and  then  a  cessation ; 

But  I'll  sing  till  I'm  done, 

If  it  takes  till  the  sun 
Has  risen  upon  half  the  nation. 

When  I  see  a  fuss, 

And  a  very  great  muss 
Bound  the  base  of  my  high  habitation, 

I  simply  look  on, 

And  let  it  alone, 
Growing  wise  by  my  keen  observation. 

I  should  feel  very  green 

Should  I  ever  be  seen 

Going  round,  making  trouble  among  neigh- 
bors ; 

But  I  stay  at  home, 

And  never  roam, 
All  content  with  domestic  labors. 


216  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

Let  folks  say  what  they  will, 
I  shall  always  keep  still, 

And  ne'er  return  evil  for  evil 
For  its  no  kind  of  use 
To  repay  their  abuse  : 

I  shall  always  keep  cool,  calm  and  civil. 

My  'character's  such 

That  I  don't  care  much, 
If  they  pelt  me  with  stones  without  reason ; 

For,  up  here  in  the  tree, 

I'm  so  hard  to  see, 
That  to  find  me,  would  take  a  whole  season ! 

I'm  a  toad,  in  short, 

That  is  hard  to  be  caught, 
And  I  can  say,  without  any  assumption, 

That  if  all  I  see 

Would  imitate  me, 

They  would  show  themselves  men  of  gump- 
tion ! 

For  it  seems  very  clear 

To  me,  up  here, 

That  the  world  would  show  far  less  remM»- 
ness, 

If  every  man, 

So  far  as  he  can, 
like  me,  should  mind  his  own  business  ! 


PEOSE     AND     POETRY.  217 


\ 

THE  COMFORTS  OF  PLAYING  "HOOKIE.  > 

HAVE  you  any  sympathy  with  this1  poor  boy  ? 
Do  any  of  you  see  your  own  likeness  here? 
Do  you  remember  when  you  strayed  away,  after 
school,  to  have  a  slide,  or  a  skating,  on  the  pond, 
knowing  all  the  while  that  your  mother  was  expect- 
ing you  home  ?  Do  you  remember  how,  when  it  was 
near  dark,  and  the  snow  began  to  fall  thick  and 
heavy,  you  started  on  your  way  home,  half  frozen, 
dissatisfied  with  yourself,  and  ready  to  cry  with 
vexation,  without  finding  anybody  to  be  vexed  with 
but  yourself?  Then  you  began  to  wish  you  had 
gone  directly  home  from  school — and  then  again,  to 
wish,  almost,  that  you  had  no  home  to  go  to,  be- 
cause you  felt  you  ought  to  be  punished,  and  feared 
you  would  be.  You  lingered  along,  growing  cold- 
er and  colder,  instead  of  running  briskly  on,  and 
warming  yourself  with  the  exercise.  There  is  no 
fire  that  can  make  you  so  comfortable,  in  a  cold  day, 
as  brisk,  cheerful  exercise.  Ah  !  there  was  the  mis- 
chief. You  were  not  cheerful.  You  could  not  be 
cheerful  for  you  had  been  doing  wrong,  and  there 
is  something  in  that  to  chill  the  body,  as  well  as 
the  spirit.  Your  fingers — how  they  smarted !  Your 
ears — how  they  tingled  !  You  tried  blowing  your 
fingers.  Silly  boy  !  do  you  not  know  that  this  only 
makes  a  bad  matter  worse  ?  Beat  them — thrash 


218  MERRY'S   GEMS   OP 


THE  * B  L  o  w 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  219 

them — rub  them  together — put  them  in  your  pock- 
ets, and  run.  Run  home.  Take  a  whipping,  if  it 
must  be  so,  and  resolve  never  to  deserve  another. 
But  don't  stand  there,  scaring  yourself  with  such 
sorry  looks,  and  hugging  the  cold,  as  it  were  your 

best  friend.     Hurry  home  at  once,  and what 

did  you  say  ?  It  was  not  you,  eh  ?  Well,  I  ain 
glad  of  it.  But  pray  who  was  it  ? 


PLEASURE  AND   DUTY. 

How  men  would  mock  at  pleasure's  shows, 
Her  golden  promise,  if  they  knew 
What  weary  work  she  is  to  those 
Who  have  no  better  work  to  do. 

Curved  is  the  line  of  beauty, 
Straight  is  the  line  of  duty ; 
Walk  by  the  last,  and  thou  shalt  see 
The  other  ever  follow  thee. 

Oh  !  righteous  doom,  that  they  who  make 
Pleasure  their  only  end ; 
Ordering  their  whole  life  for  its  sake, 
Miss  that  whereto  they  tend. 

While  they  who  bid  stern  duty  lead, 
Content  to  follow,  they, 
Of  duty  only  taking  heed, 
Find  pleasure  by  the  way. 


220  MERRY'S    GEMS    OP 

TELLING    MOTHER. 

A  CLUSTER  of  young  girls  stood  about  the  door 
of  the  school-room,  one  afternoon,  engaged  in 
close  conversation,  when  a  little  girl  joined  them, 
and  asked  what  they  were  doing.  "  I  am  telling 
the  girls  a  secret,  Kate,  and  we  will  let  you  know, 
if  you  promise  not  to  tell  any  one  as  long  as  you 
live,"  was  the  reply. 

"I  won't  tell  any  one  but  my  mother,"  replied 
Kate.  "  I  tell  her  every  thing,  for  she  is  my  best 
friend." 

"  No,  not  even  your  mother,  no  one  in  the  world," 

11  Well,  then  I  can't  hear  it ;  for  what  I  can't  tell 
my  mother  is  not  Jit  for  me  to  know."  After  speak- 
ing these  words,  Kate  walked  away  slowly,  and  per- 
haps sadly,  yet  with  a  quiet  conscience,  while  her 
companions  went  on  with  their  secret  conversation. 

I  am  sure  that  if  Kate  continued  to  act  on  that 
principle,  she  became  a  virtuous,  useful  woman. 
No  child  of  a  pious  mother  will  be  likely  to  take  a 
sinful  course,  if  Kate's  reply  is  taken  as  a  rule  of 
conduct. 

As  soon  as  a  boy  listens  to  a  conversation  <it 
school,  or  on  the  play-ground,  which  he  would  fc  ir 
or  blush  to  repeat  to  his  mother,  he  is  in  the  way  of 
temptation,  and  no  one  can  tell  where  he  will  step. 
Many  a  man  dying  in  disgrace,  in  prison,  or  on  the 
scaffold,  has  looked  back  with  bitter  remorse  to  the 
time  when  the  first  sinful  companion  gained  his  ear. 


I 

PEOSE     AND     POETRY.  221 

and  came  between  him  and  a  pious  mother.  Boys 
and  girls,  if  you  would  lead  a  Christain  life,  and 
die  a  Christain  death,  make  Kate's  reply  your  rule : 
"  What  I  can  not  tell  my  mother,  is  not  fit  for  me  to 
know  ;"  for  a  pious  mother  is  your  best  friend. 

POCKETS. — What  about  a  youngster's  dress  is  he 
more  proud  of  than  his  pockets  ?  Does  his  mother 
forget  to  insert  a  pocket  in  his  apron,  she  is  quickly 
reminded  of  it,  and  obtains  no  peace  until  the  omis- 
sion is  supplied.  What  mother  ever  finished  her 
boy's  first  pantaloons  without  a  pocket  on  either 
side.  And  with  his  legs  encased  in  the  little  cloth 
tubes,  as  he  struts  off,  where  are  his  hands  1  Has 
his  mother  lost  her  thimble,  where  can  she  find  it  ? 
Is  any  thing  ever  suffered  to  lie  loose  on  the  floor, 
small  enough  to  go  into  his  pocket  ?  And  at  a  later 
stage  of  life,  when  the  world's  good  begin  to  attract 
his  attention,  and  that  decidedly  human  nature  com- 
mences stealing  over  him,  and  his  pockets  are  lar- 
ger, and  he  has-  more  of  them,  are  they  less  used  ? 
Let  the  following  exposition  answer.  A  mother 
in  a  neighboring  village,  says  she  emptied  her  hope- 
ful son's  pocket,  the  other  day,  and  the  following 
articles  were  brought  to  light :  Sixteen  marbles,  one 
top,  an  oyster  shell,  two  pieces  of  brick,  one  dough 
nut,  a  piece  of  curry  comb,  one  paint  brush,  three 
wax  ends,  a  handful  of  corn,  a  chisel,  two  broken 
knives,  a  skate  strap,  three  buckles,  one  ball,  two 
primers,  five  hen's  eggs,  and  a  bird's  nest. 


222  MERRY;S     GEMS     OF 


TELL-TALE  FACE. 

I  HATE  those  frigid  notions, 

That  seem  to  count  it  sin, 
To  show  the  kind  emotions 

True  feeling  wakes  within. 
Those  manners  cold,  an«l  guarded 

With  words  dealt  out  by  rule, 
Pronounced  just  as  mamma  did, 

Or  Madam  F at  school. 

I  love  the  playful  fancies 

Of  an  unsuspecting  heart, 
That  speak,  in  songs  and  glances, 

Unchecked  by  rules  of  art. 
I  love  the  face  that  speaketh 

Of  all  that's  in  the  mind  ; 
The  brow,  the  eye,  that  taketh 

Its  hue  from  what's  behind. 

This  voice  is  none  but  Nature's — 

The  language  of  the  soul, 
Words  err ;  but  o'er  the  features 

Guile  may  not  have  control. 
The  tongue  can  tell  of  feelings 

That  may  be,  or  may  not ; 
But  the  eye  hath  sure  revealings 

Of  the  deeply-hidden  thought. 

I  love  the  quick  expression 
That  flashes  the  full  eye, 

When  truth  would  make  confession, 
Whilst  modesty  would  lie. 


PROSE     AND    POETRY.  223 

Those  warm,  those  heavenly  blushes, 

That  kindle  brow  and  cheek, 
When  feeling's  fountain  gushes 

With  what  it  dare  not  speak. 

Those  shades  that  come  unbidden, 

With  every  passing  cloud  ; 
Which  tell  of  care,  deep  hidden 

'Mid  merry  looks,  or  proud. 
That  sudden  gleam  of  pleasure 

From  brow,  and  eye,  and  lip, 
Which  tell  the  heart  has  treasure 

It  scarce  knows  how  to  keep. 

These,  these  are  voices  given 

For  soul  to  speak  with  soul 
As  true  to  truth  and  Heaven 

As  the  needle  to  the  pole. 
I  bow  to  wit,  and  beauty, 

And  I  almost  worship  grace, 
But  1  owe  a  special  duty 

To  an  honest  tell-tale  face. 


THE  SUSPENSHIX  BRIDGE  AT  NIAGARY. 

Anormous  structur !     Whar,  Ide  like  to  know, 
Did  the  constructors  stand  as  bilt  this  rode 
Rite  throo  the  air  ?     Say,  gentle  mews, 
Wot  hed  they  to  hold  on  to  ?    But,  alas  ! 
The  mews  sez  nuthin'.    Oh,  Jerewsalem  ! 
Wot  boyed  them  up  !    Imadjinashin  flored, 
Can't  git  the  hang  of  it ! 

I  hev  it  now ! 
They  did  It  in  balloons ! 


224 


MERRYS     GEMS     OF 


THE  STONE   IN  THE  POND. 

FT1HERE  goes  the  stone,  splash  in  the  pond !  Look 
JL  at  the  circles  round  the  place  where  it  went  in  ! 
— They  grow  larger  and  larger,  till  they  fill  the 
whole  pond ! 

Our  heart  is  like  the  pond.  Every  thought,  every 
word  we  utter,  every  action,  is  a  stone  thrown  into 
it.  It  may  seem  a  small  matter  to  say  that  little 
word,  or  to  think  that  little  thought,  or  to  do  that 


PROSE     AND     POETEY.  225 

little  action  ;  but  we  must  not  despise  little  things  ; 
for  there  is  nothing  so  trifling  but  it  may  be  very 
serious. 

A  boy  once  slyly  took  a  marble  from  his  playmate, 
while  he  was  playing  with  him  :  but,  as  he  did  not 
notice  his  loss,  it  was  not  known.  Soon  after,  the 
same  boy  took  some  cake  from  his  mother's  cup- 
board ;  but  she  did  not  find  it  out.  Next  he  stole 
some  money  from  his  father  ;  but  he  did  not  miss  it. 
He  then  robbed  his  master  :  and  at  last  it  was  found 
out,  and  he  was  taken  to  prison,  and  sent  far  away 
to  a  strange  land,  and  he  never  saw  his  father  and 
mother  again.  Perhaps,  if  he  had  not  cheated  his 
playmate  of  the  marble,  he  would  never  have  robbed 
his  master,  and  come  to  so  bad  an  end.  He  did  not 
think  that  the  little  stone  would  produce  first  a 
small  circle,  then  a  larger  one,  and  at  last  ruin  his 
good  name. 

Watch  over  the  first  steps  ;  think  no  sins  little  ; 
be  afraid  of  evil  in  the  bud  ;  and  good  books,  good 
advice,  and,  above  all,  God's  good  Spirit,  will  be 
stones  thrown  into  the  pool  of  your  heart,  to  bless 
and  save  you. 

A  VERY  excellent  lady  sought  to  instruct  her 
grandchild  in  relation  to  the  provident  care  of 
Heaven. 

"  Who  gives  you  your  daily  bread  ?"  asked  she. 

"  Dod,"  replied  the  child  ;  "  but  uncle  Peter  puts 
the  butter  and  sugar  on." 


226 


MERRY'S     GEMS     OF 


HISTORY   OF  A  FLOWER. 

WHEN  the  world  was  first  created,  when  God 
said  "  let  there  be  light,"  when,  at  his  bidding 
the  flowers  sprang  up,  and  the  trees  put  forth  their 
leaves,  and  the  green  grass  crept  up  the  hill-side, 
then  I  was  born  in  a  quiet  place  under  a  large  ash 
tree  in  the  very  heart  of  a  thick  forest. 

And  there  I  lived  and  grew  unnoticed.  Years 
flew  by,  and  every  winter  I  dropped  my  leaves,  and 
remained  for  months  buried  in  the  snow  ;  and  every 


PROSE    AND    POETRY.  227 

spring  put  on  a  robe  of  green  and  bloomed  in  soli- 
tude. Very  near  my  sylvan  home  a  brook  ran  slowly 
along,  seeming  like  a  beautiful  mirror,  as  it  reflec- 
ted the  tall  trees  that  rose  above  it  and  the  fair 
flowers  that  bent  over  it.  I  had  often  wished  to  be 
one  of  those  favored  flowers  whose  roots  were 
nourished  by  the  waters,  and  who  could  see  their 
beauty  reflected  in  them,  for  though  I  had  lived 
long,  I  did  not  know  whether  my  form  was  beauti- 
ful or  not.  While  I  was  vainly  wishing  that  I  had 
been  born  by  the  brookside,  I  saw  a  gentleman 
walking  through  the  woods  :  he  seemed  to  be  fond  of 
flowers,  for  he  carried  many  in  his  hand,  to  which 
he  added  others  as  he  passed  along.  He  appeared 
delighted  with  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  place.  At* 
first  he  did  not  notice  me,  but  when  his  attention 
was  drawn  that  way,  he  seemed  surprised  :  I  did 
not  know  that  he  was  admiring  my  simple  beauty. 
He  took  a  small  spade  which  he  carried,  and  care- 
fully loosened  the  earth  about  my  roots,  and  drew 
me  from  the  spot  where  so  many  happy  hours  had 
been  spent.  He  wrapped  large  leaves  around  me  to 
shelter  me  from  the  sun,  and  went  from  the  wood 
into  the  open  field,  and  after  walking  for  some  time 
he  stopped  before  a  poor  but  neat  cottage.  He  went 
in,  and  addressing  a  young  woman  who  was  rock- 
ing in  a  large  arm-chair  and  looking  rery  pale,  he 
said,  "  Mary,  I  have  brought  you  this  beautiful 
flower." 

Mary  received  me  gratefully,  and  placed  me  in  a 


228  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

glass  of  water,  saying  that  she  would  ask  her  hus- 
band to  plant  me  when  he  came  home  ;  the  gentle- 
man then  took  his  leave.  I  was  soon  placed  in  a 
flower-pot  and  lived  in  the  cottage  for  some  years. 
Here  I  was  happier  than  before  ;  it  was  true  I  often 
sighed  for  the  pure  air,  and  mossy  couch  on  which  I 
reclined  in  the  beautiful  quiet  of  my  old  home,  but  I 
was  soon  consoled  by  the  thought  that  I  now 
bloomed  for  the  happiness  of  others.  I  brought  a 
smile  to  the  face  of  the  invalid  as  I  budded  and 
opened  my  beauties  before  her,  and  I  endeavored  to 
repay  her  care  by  shedding  my  perfume  in  the  sick- 
chamber. 

But  time  brought  its  changes.  A  lovely  child 
had  been  born  there,  and  I  saw  that  the  mother  was 
gradually  passing  away.  She  died,  and  her  husband 
soon  followed  her  to  the  spirit-land.  Their  son, 
thus  left  an  orphan,  was  taken  by  his  uncle,  who 
was  a  poor  man  with  a  large  family,  and  therefore 
looked  upon  the  boy  with  an  unfriendly  eye,  and 
sometimes  treated  him  unkindly.  One  dark  night  he 
let  himself  down  from  a  window  and  ran  away,  still 
carrying  me  with  him.  After  walking  for  some  time 
he  came  to  a  large  city,  where  he  went  into  the 
market  and  with  much  sorrow  he  offered  me  for 
gale,  for  he  was  penniless.  My  rare, beauty  drew 
many  admirers,  but  all  refused  to  pay  the  exorbitant 
price  demanded.  At  last,  however,  a  rich  gentle- 
man purchased  me.  He  took  me  to  a  fine  house 
where  he  showed  me  to  his  wife ;  she  admired  me 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  229 

very  much.  I  was  then  given  to  the  gardener  with 
directions  for  planting  me  by  a  fountain  where  I 
now  am.  Here  in  this  lovely  spot,  the  companion 
of  the  most  gorgeous  flowers,  beside  this  crystal 
fountain,  whose  tinkling  sound  mingling  with  the 
rustling  of  the  breeze  makes  "  music  soft  and  low," 
one  would  think  I  could  ask  nothing  more.  7Tis 
true  I  love  these  bright  flowers,  but  the  bright 
cheek  and  lips  of  the  invalid  were  dearer  to  me,  for 
I  felt  that  I  was  her  consoler.  I  love  this  crystal 
fountain  that  waters  me,  but  dearer  far  were  the 
tears  of  that  orphan  boy,  for  as  they  dropped  on  my 
leaves  I  threw  back  my  sweetest  perfume  to  revive 
his  drooping  spirit ;  I  awakened  memories  of  his 
sainted  mother ;  I  made  him  happy.  Thus,  as  we 
strew  blessings  along  the  pathway  of  the  sorrowing, 
so  are  we  made  happy  in  return. 


230  MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 

LIFE'S   SMILE-S. 

LIFE  !  ah !  what  is  it  ?  illusive  and  bright ; 

An  angel's  brief  visit  in  a  halo  of  light  ? 

Ah !  who  shall  define  it,  and  what  may  it  be  ? 

A  light  dancing  shallop  on  time's  silver  sea? 

A  flood  of  warm  sunlight  shed  down  from  on  high  ? 

A  moonbeam's  soft  glow,  from  a  star-spangled  sky  ? 

A  meteor's  glare  in  the  darkness  of  night, 

Or  lightning's  quick  flash,  evanescent  and  bright  ° 

An  eagle's  strong  wing,  dashing  quickly  away, 

Or  soaring  more  proudly  in  quest  of  his  prey  ? 

A  mist  that  may  rise  to  the  thunder-bolt's  berth, 

Or  sink  and  dissolve  in  the  bogs  of  the  earth  ? 

0,  tell  us  whal  is  it,  ye  sages — who  knows 

From  whence  is  its  coming,  and  whither  it  goes  ? 

A  rainbow,  whose  splendor,  the  vision  may  lure, 
With  tints  all  too  beautiful  long  to  endure  ? 
A  dew-spangled  morn — a  fair  summer  flower, 
Whose  glories  evanish  and  fade  in  a  hour  ? 
A  zephyr — a  tempest — a  torrent — a  pool  ? 
A  quiet — a  tumult — a  lesson — a  school? 
A  fleeting  probation — a  shifting  of  scene  ? 
A  mystification — and  what  does  it  mean  ? 
A  pleasure  exquisite — a  medley — a  pain — 
0,  say  you  what  is  it? — I  pray  you  explain, 
Ye  that  have  kenn'd  of  it,  silence  forego. 
What  is  the  end  of  it  ?  tell  if  ye  know. 

Mortal !  list,  and  you  shall  hear. 
Life's  a  joy  and  life's  a  tear  : 
Quickly  o'er,  or  wiped  away  : 
Soon  is  closed,  its  transient  day. 

Life  is  fleeting, 

Life  is  free  ; 
Life's  a  shallop  on  time's  sea. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  231 

Life's  a  shadow, 

Life  is  bright, 

Life's  a  halo, 

Life  is  light : 

Life's  a  sunbeam  from  on  high, — 
Moonlight  in  a  starry  sky. 
Life's  a  meteor  of  the  night ; 
Life  is  lightning— quick  and  brigh 
Life's  an  eagle — swift  of  wing ; 
Life's  a  brief— a  transient  thing. 
Life's  a  mist,  destined  to  soar, 
Or  to  sink  and  rise  no  more ! 

Life's  a  rainbow, 

Life's  a  dew  ; 
Life  has  tints  of  every  hue. 

Life's  a  vision, 

Life's  a  dream, 

Life's  a  tumult, 

Life's  a  theme, 

Life's  a  zephyr, 

Life's  a  flower, 
Life  may  vanish  in  ail  hour. 

Life's  a  torrent, 

Life's  a  pool, 

Life's  a  lesson, 

Life's  a  school ; 

Life's  a  tempest, 

Life's  a  calm, 

Life's  a  blessing, 

Life's  a  balm  : 

Life's  a  drama, 

Life's  a  scene, 

Life  is  shifting, 

Life  is  lean, 

Life's  a  struggle, 


232  MERRY'S    GEMS   o 

Life's  a  breath 
And  the  end  of  life  is  death. 
Such  is  life's  history — soon  it  is  o'er. — 
Solved  is  its  mystery — conn'd  is  its  lore. 
****** 

Is  that  the  whole  of  it, 

Ever  and  anon. 
Body  and  soul  of  it 

Going  and  gone  ? 

Fondest  hopes  blasting ! 

Oh  !  horrible  theme ! 
Is  life  everlasting 

A  fanciful  dream  ? 
Is  there  no  hope  for  us, 

Merciful  God ! 
But  a  lone  scope  for  us 

Under  the  sod? 
Is  there  not  grace  for  us, 

Father  of  love ! 
Room  for  us,  place  for  us 

With  thee  above  ? 
Are  there  not  mansions 

Prepared  for  the  just  ? 
God  of  salvation ! 

In  thee  is  our  trust ! 
Jesus  hath  died  for  us, 

He  hath  the  power  ; 
He  shall  decide  for  us 

In  the  dark  hour. 
Our  cares  on  him  casting 

Shall  lighten  our  gloom  I 
And  to  life  everlasting, 

Will  rise  from  the  tomb. 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  233 

Then  shall  life's  history 

Never  be  o'er, 
Kesolving  its  mystery 

In  eternity's  lore. 
*        *        *        * 

Then  life  is  a  blessing — 

A  boon  from  above — 
A  gift  worth  possessing, 

A  token  of  love. 
Whoso  neglecteth  it, 

Proves  a  bad  liver ; 
Whoe'er  rejecteth  it 

Spurneth  the  giver. 
Take  it  with  gratitude ; 

Cherish  it,  care  for  it ; 
Crave  you  beatitude  ? 

You  must  prepare  for  it. 
Waste  not  your  energies, 

Toiling  for  Mammon : 
False  is  the  idol 

As  Jupiter  Ammon. 
Are  you  in  thraldom  ? 

You  must  come  out  of  it, 
That  we  may  all  come, 

There  is  no  doubt  of  it : 

Nothing  restrictory 

Crosses  the  road — 
Press  on  to  victory, 

Children  of  God  1 

To  love  and  love's  labor 

Then  limit  your  strife ; 
Be  God  and  your  neighbor 

The  joy  of  your  life. 


234 


MERRY'S    GEMS   OF 


THE     INDIAN. 


PROSE    AND    POETRY. 


235 


WANTS  HIS  LAND-WARRANT. 


HILE  the  Creek  war  was  rag- 
ing, a  portion  of  those  Indians 
were  friendly  to  the  whites, 
and  have  received  bounty  land  warrants  for  their 
services  ;  but  occasionally  one  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  question  puts  in  his  claim,  most  ignorantly,  but 
with  great  faith  in  getting  it. 

A  short  time  since  a  renowned  Hajo  of  the  Creek 
nation  requested  the  services  of  one  of  our  attorneys 
while  traveling  in  the  Indian  country,  in  procuring 
his  land  warrant  from  the  Department.  The  lawyer 
was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  good  fee  ;  the  In- 
dian promising  him  half  the  worth  of  the  warrant, 
in  the  event  of  it  being  obtained.  The  lawyer 


236  MERRY'S   GEMS    OF 

wished  to  know  of  his  employer  the  services  he  had 
rendered. 

"  Don't  know  talk  like  this,"  said  the  astonished 
Indian. 

"  Well,  who  did  you  fight  under  ?"  continued  the 
lawyer. 

"  Me  fight  under  log,"  said  Hajo. 

"  No,  no  ;  but  who  was  your  captain  ?"  the  law- 
yer inquired. 

•'  Me  big  man.  me  captain  too,"  answered  the 
Indian. 

"  I  want  to  know  where  you  fought,"  said  the  law- 
yer, "  at  what  battle  ?" 

"  Me  fight  big  heap,  me  shoot  behind  tree,  me 
shoot  under  bank  river,  shoot  big  gun  heap,"  said 
the  Indian. 

•'  Well,  what  did  you  shoot  at,"  asked  the  lawyer, 
thinking  that  he  would  defer  further  questions  till 
an  interpreter  could  be  procured. 

"  Me  shoot  at  Gineral  Jackson,  tree,  four  times"  re- 
plied the  warrant  seeker. 


PROSE    AND     POETRY.  237 


ROSE   AND  THE  FLOWER. 

K  ~P  OSE,  my  pet,"  said  Mr  .^  Morton  to  his  little 

J-L  girl,  "  why  are  you  plucking  so  many  flow- 
ers ?" 

"  To  take  to  auntie,  papa.  I  am  sure  she  will 
like  them,  they  are  such  beauties. " 

"  Aunt  has  finer  of  her  own,  love." 

"  Then  I  may  keep  them  for  myself ;  may  I  not  ? 
They  will  refresh  us  on  the  road." 

A  kind  smile  said,  "  Yes  ;"  and  happily  did  little 
Rose  spring  into  the  car. 

When  they  came  to  the  station,  Rose  saw  many 
people  outside.  Among  them,  were  some  poor, 
wretched-looking  children,  thin  and  dirty.  They 
looked  very  hard  at  Rose  and  her  bright  nosegay ; 
and  one  of  them  at  last  took  courage  to  say, 
"  Please  give  me  a  flower  P 

Now.  she  was  often  called  a  kind  little  girl ;  but 
this  time,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  she  did  not  deserve  the 
name  ;  for,  thinking,  "  How  can  I  give  my  pretty 
fuschia  and  jessamine,  and  these  lovely  carnations, 
to  these  dirty  little  creatures,"  she  ran  after  her 
papa  into  the  station. 

At  last,  the  train  went  off  ;  but  Rose,  although  she 
had  been  busy  watching  the  engines,  could  not  make 
herself  quite  easy  about  her  flowers  and  the  poor 
children,  though  she  tried  to  excuse  herself  by 


MERRY'S    GEMS    OP 

thinking,  "  Oh  !  they  could  never  have  taken  care  01 
them,  so  it  would  have  been  no  good  to  have  given 
them  away." 

At  the  next  station,  there  came  into  the  carriage 
where  Rose  was.  a  little  cripple,  who  looked  pale 
and  ill.  Some  one,  whom  Rose  thought  was  her 
mother,  stood  outside,  saying,  with  tears,  "  Good- 
bye !  God  bless  my  poor  child  !"  and  a  lady  came 
to  the  window  and  gave  her  a  flower — a  geranium. 
Such  a  beautiful  one !  Rose's  eyes  were  fixed  on  it 
directly.  It  seemed  to  please  the  child,  too,  for  she 
said,  "  Thank  you,  Miss  Lucy  !  Oh,  it  is  pretty  !" 

The  train  started,  and  the  child  kept  her  eyes, 
which  were  full  of  tears,  fixed  on  her  mother,  till 
she  could  see  her  no  more,  and  then  she  looked  at 
her  flower,  so  fondly!  and  turned  it  every  way, 
that  she  might  see  all  its  beauty. 

Not  for  some  time  did  she  see  Rose,  who  was 
watching  her  earnestly. 

"  That  lovely  geranium  !"  thought  Rose  ;  "  how 
much  more  beautiful  it  is  than  any  of  my  flowers  P' 
and  she  looked  at  her  own  now  despised  nosegay. 

At  last  they  came  to  another  station.  The  little 
cripple  moved  slowly  to  the  other  end  of  the  seat, 
opposite  Rose.  She  bent  forward,  and  said,  in  a 
pleasant  voice,  "  I  think  you  like  my  flower  ;  do 
take  it  ?"  Rose  blushed,  for  she  did  not  know  that 
her  looks  had  told  her  wishes  so  plainly.  She 
thought,  "  How  good  this  poor  child  is  !  Her  only 
flower,  too  !"  But  she  had  yet  said  nothing,  and  the 


PROSE     AND     POETRY.  239 

poor  cripple  felt  sad,  thinking  she  had  offended 
Rose.  At  last  Ruse  said,  "  No,  I  thank  you  ;  I  have 
all  these  of  my  own." 

Her  father  had  watched  what  passed  anxiously, 
for  he  feared  Rose  would  take  the  flower.  But,  in- 
stead of  that,  she  moved  up  to  him,  whispering, 
"  Papa,  this  little  girl  loves  flowers  ;  may  I  give 
her  mine !"  He  smiled  a  glad  answer,  and  Rose 
carefully  took  up  her  nosegay,  and  laid  it  on  the 
child's  lap,  and  then  went  back  quickly  to  her  papa. 
The  little  girl  thanked  Rose,  but  would  only  take 
one  or  two. 

Mr.  Morton  began  to  talk  to  her,  and  found  that 
jhe  was  going  to  her  aunt's  at  Leamington,  as  the 
doctor  advised  it ;  and  she  thought  that  if  she  tried 
to  make  wax-flowers,  some  of  the  ladies  might  buy 
them,  for  her  mother  was  poor. 

Rose  never  forgot  the  lesson  she  had  taught  her, 
and  was  always  after  that  kind  herself  and  tried  to 
make  others  so. 


240  MERRY'S  GEMS   OP 


TOP  PHILOSOPHY. 

CHILDREN  must  be  busy, 
Always  something  learning. 

Toys  and  trinkets,  for  their  secrets, 
Inside-outward  turning. 

While  the  top  is  spinning, 

Boys  are  wondering  all, 
How  it  stands  erect  unaided, 

Why  it  does  not  fall. 

While  the  top  is  humming, 

Still  the  wonder  grows, 
By  what  art  the  little  spinner 

Whistles  as  it  goes. 

Children  learn  while  playing ; 

Children  play  while  learning  ; 
Pastimes,  often  more  than  lessons, 

Into  knowledge  turning. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


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